


Pocket Merc

by Dragon_Mage



Series: Where We're From [1]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Love Triangles, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Transformation, match maker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-09-23 17:53:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 33
Words: 101,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9669659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragon_Mage/pseuds/Dragon_Mage
Summary: Engineer wakes up but isn't quite himself anymore. In fact, he becomes a little less himself and more a small toy.Surely he is the real Engineer, the one who died months ago. It will take more than a little bit of war to dissuade this cowboy from realizing who he is and what makes him what he is.A fluffy story about a man turned ragdoll trying to reconnect with friends, rekindle old friendships and connect the romantics.





	1. Just a Little Rag Doll

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to this cute little piece I'm working on. Not sure how long it's going to be or anything. But it's apt to include everyone.

Normally, the Engineer would call out, “Sentry down!” But this time, everything was different.

Respawn was down. The team was still on the battlefield. And somewhere out there, beyond the bots, was a wizard waiting for his revenge. There would be no rest for them, not if they were to survive. And the way the Engineer saw things, everything was sliding down a long slippery slope.

If only the situation was any different. If only they were not mercenaries who must put themselves forward on the battlefield. If only they had Merasmus’ help, instead of his wrath every day. That darn wizard was relentless in his efforts to destroy the team.

 

He did not remember what happened. He was not sure he wanted to remember. Given he was not in his own body and everything felt weird, he was sure it was something too strange for words.

Whatever the case, he peeled himself off of what seemed to be a giant table surface and looked around. He felt like he was in a giant study, the kind that a crazy person had, chock full of books that were too many for any one person to sanely be reading. Papers were falling out of nooks and crannies here and there, and there were even ancient relics falling around.

He rubbed his head, but everything felt weird. Not numb, but not quite like skin on skin. He chocked it up to a possible concussion and the sensation that something had gone wrong. It was all in his head.

Respawn should not have spat him out, though this looked like no respawn room he had ever seen. It had broken, ruined from ever aiding the mercenaries ever again. Even if they managed to get it into working order again, the mere heat caused by the meltdown had melted the chips that were their body scans. They would have to get all new scans, but there was no time for that.

He looked around the room again. It was extravagantly big. Who would ever study in a place like this?

He got to his feet and carefully walked to what was apparently an edge. It looked like there was a chair beneath him, a giant chair. Bewildered, but needing to find his bearings, he leaped from his perch to land on the ladder back. He carefully climbed down, counting each rung to keep himself steady in the sense that he knew how far down he had gone.

He dropped from the last rung to what was apparently the seat. It was warm, as if there had been a living creature sitting here. It was such a big space though that it had to be something huge. Maybe one of Gray’s giant robots was here and had a meltdown.

“Shut up, Soldier!” he heard Merasmus’ voice booming from the next area.

“Soldier!” he gasped, hurrying to climb down the leg of the chair.

There was not much to grab, so he slid down, guided by the smooth wood. He would have to guess it was either made by some fancy technology that could compress wood together, or some damn giant trees. It served him well though, and now he turned his attention to the platform he had climbed down from.

It was a giant desk, with its giant chair. The part that he climbed down from looked like a little work space, with an unlit lamp hanging over it. It had a gleam in the ceiling light, like it was freshly polished.

He turned his attention from it to the door. It was massive, with a gaping hole that looked impossible to have been built in any known way. Perhaps this was one of Merasmus’ tricks though.

When he came to the doorway, he stumbled to a halt. Come to think of it, he had no reason to doubt anything here, or any theory for that matter. Given Merasmus’ abilities, it was not a far stretch to think that perhaps the man had enlarged this place, or perhaps shrunk him down. That seemed like the apt theory, given how grand everything looked and felt.

“I need the toothpaste!” a second voice boomed through the hallway. It sounded somewhat familiar.

He rushed out the door and hoped in his mind that somebody was distracting Merasmus. There was no way that he would undo all of this by himself, not without backup. Even at this height, he was sure somebody would help him up and help him out. He could get Spy to convince Soldier to get Merasmus to fix this. He was certain that – given his current stature – he was nowhere close to convincing Merasmus to do anything.

“Soldier, so help me, if you don’t put that down gently, I’m going to start breaking the rest of your display case!” Merasmus shouted.

“You wouldn’t dare, maggot!” Soldier roared.

“Don’t take that tone with me!” Merasmus shouted back at him.

“This is my _only_ tone!” Soldier roared back at him.

The Engineer found himself feeling frustrated over all of the loud noise. They were being extremely loud, and being very small apparently made their usually loud voices seem even louder. It was quite painful, and he hesitated at nearly every step he took down the hallway.

“You always do this!” Merasmus boomed, “Always yelling! Always getting angry!”

“I wouldn’t get so angry, if you weren’t so damn frustrating!” Soldier roared back at him.

“Soldier, so help me-” Merasmus started.

Engineer was peering around the corner now, finding the two as giants standing in a kitchen. They were practically in each other’s faces, a chair overturned, and their faces red with anger. They looked like they had been arguing for a long while. The Engineer was surprised that it had yet to come to blows, given how Soldier got when he was mad.

“You just-” Merasmus’ voice softened, “You just keep doing this, Soldier. And I can’t take it anymore. You can’t stay here like this.”

“Fine! I’ll _leave_!” Soldier stomped a foot angrily, like a child trying to make his temper known. To Engineer’s ears, that was like a mountain falling.

“Soldier,” Merasmus spoke a bit more calmly now, “We’re not going to resolve anything if you keep resorting to temper tantrums like th-”

Merasmus cut off as he did a double take glance at the floor. Not just any spot on the floor though. The Engineer had caught his eye and now the Soldier was looking his way too.

Soldier let out a monstrous scream, almost like a battle cry as he darted towards it. He was shouting something about rats, while Merasmus was shouting something else. Engineer could not tell. The Engineer was running around and trying to escape, until a giant boot caught him and threw him against a wall. He felt like the wind had been beaten out of him, but he was surprisingly okay. He was scrambling to his feet when the giant boot slammed down on his body. That part hurt the worst.

“Soldier, no!” Merasmus pulled the Soldier, and subsequently the boot, away.

“You need to take better care of these rats!” Soldier spat.

“I wouldn’t have rats if you didn’t keep- Never mind. That’s not important,” Merasmus swooped down, a spindly fingered hand wrapping around the Engineer’s body.

He figured this must be it. Merasmus would turn him into something atrocious and he would die. He had no respawn, so this was it. Soldier obviously did not recognize him, being quicker to act than he was to think.

“Hello there,” Merasmus spoke softly to him.

He raised his head and cautiously flipped himself over to look up at the man holding him. Merasmus had a weird look, almost like an awkward smile.

“What is that?” Soldier demanded.

Merasmus gave him an irritated look, “It’s the rag doll I’ve been working on.”

“Rag doll?” Engineer was surprised at what he had been called.

Merasmus’ head spun back to look at the Engineer, “Ooh hoo! He talks!”

Engineer pulled himself up onto his feet. The hand was not very steady, so he felt rather wobbly. In fact, after the thrashing he took, his body did not really want him getting up.

“Of course I talk! Now look here, mister,” he tried to shake a finger at Merasmus.

Something felt strange with his hand. That was when he looked and realized he _had_ a hand. Where a mechanical attachment covered in a glove used to exist, he now had a hand. It was not a normal hand though, as there were no fingers. Rather, it was shaped like a mitten. His hand _looked_ like a mitten. It even had stitching on it.

“Look, it even _sounds_ like the Engineer!” Merasmus sounded excited, as he showed the little man to the Soldier.

“That’s because I _am_ the Engineer, you yellow bellied snake in the grass!” he said angrily.

“Even talks like him too! Look Jane!” Merasmus pushed the Engineer at Soldier, which caused him to lose balance and fall back.

He looked more closely at his hands now. Stitching ran up the sides of his hands. The stitching on his clothes was not normal either, and he found that when he tugged on them, they would not come loose. He looked at his clothes, seeing a soft felt that was stitched together as a part of his body.

“It has become self-aware!” Merasmus said excitedly, “Look!”

“So you made a man doll, so what?” the Soldier growled angrily.

Merasmus frowned sadly, “Soldier, I’m trying t-”

“Don’t bother, I’m leaving,” Soldier grabbed his bag and stomped out of the house, letting the screen door bang behind him.

Engineer paused for a minute, overwhelmed by everything going on. All of the noise and getting kicked around had caused a number on his senses. He was not even sure what to make of his body at the moment.

Merasmus sighed, closing his eyes with a forlorn expression on his face. It piqued the Engineer’s curiosity. He was never one to be nosey about one’s life, but there was something different about seeing this side of Merasmus that he could not understand.

“You alright, mister?” he asked, hesitantly.

Merasmus looked at him and sighed, “This was…supposed to fix everything.” He looked and sounded so sad.

“You uh…you and Solly usually fight like that?” the Engineer pressed.

“Yea well…we didn’t use to,” Merasmus carried him to the table, setting him down before he picked up the fallen chair. He seated himself and folded his hands on the table. “Jane’s been all out of sorts since the incident,” he stared at the table surface with a tired look on his face.

“And what incident would that be?” he asked, softly.

The wizard turned his eyes to the Engineer, “When the respawn went down, the Engineer was lost. He died and nobody could bring him back.”

There was a long pause as Merasmus twiddled his thumbs. There was such sadness on his face, like regret or something. It made the Engineer feel a little angry, seeing as the man was attacking them all the time, and _now_ he chose to shed some regretful attitude?

“Not even I…the great Merasmus…I couldn’t bring him back,” he explained, “And I think Jane resents me for it.”

“Now hold up there,” the Engineer raised a hand to stop him, “Look, I ain’t one to get on a man’s bad side – I’m known for dragging down the men who get on mine – but ain’t you at odds with the Soldier? And the rest of the team for that matter?”

Merasmus blinked at him, “How do you know so much?”

“Answer the question, boy,” the Engineer demanded.

“I have never been at odds with Soldier,” Merasmus answered, “Well, until recently, that is.”

“What about all those times you tried killin’ us?” he demanded.

“That was for show,” he explained, gesturing with a circular motion of the wrist, “You all had respawn. My job was to keep you all busy doing things. Robots get boring, you know?”

“I’m not sure I follow, son,” the Engineer said.

Merasmus sighed and shook his head, “Important part is that respawn went down, and nobody knew about it. At least, not until it was too late. Soldier almost got hurt. It was lucky I saw the Sniper’s white flag. But, the Engineer had already been killed by my minions.”

The Engineer shook his head, “Now, would you stop talking about me as if I ain’t right here in front of you?”

“I am not speaking of you, little pocket Engineer,” he said, patting him on the head like a child, “I am talking of the _real_ Engineer.”

“I _am_ the real Engineer, you nitwit!” he spat, “Just put me back in my own body!”

“It seems you must have gotten his memories,” Merasmus picked him up, as if he really were a doll, turning him over and studying him.

“Put me down! Put me down!” he squirmed.

“Curious,” he said sadly, “I wanted to make a replica doll for Soldier, but I guess he doesn’t like it. I was sure this would cheer him up.”

“Son, you don’t put somebody in a rag doll body and expect things to just be okay!” he said, still trying to wriggle out of Merasmus’ hand.

Merasmus let him drop onto the table with a sigh, “You’re right. I just wanted to make him feel better though. That’s all.”

Suddenly, the phone started ringing. With another somber sigh, the wizard rose from his seat to pick up the phone. While he was distracted, the Engineer started looking for a way down off of the table.

When Merasmus hung up the phone, he quickly picked up the Engineer and brought him through the hallway back to the study to set him on the desk. He sighed as he placed him under the lamp.

“Just stay here and out of trouble while I run a few errands,” the wizard said, closing the door on his way out.

Having made this climb before, the Engineer was not daunted by getting down the giant chair. But, once he was on the floor, he was not sure what to do next. There were two possible exits from his current position. The door seemed improbable, given the force he would need to open it, and how high the knob was. If it were a handle, perhaps he could create something that would pull it down using weights, but this required turning and pulling. On the other hand, there was the window, which likely required some leverage to pull upward. But then he would need to think about getting down from the window sill, at whatever height the window’s ledge was. It would be tricky, but it seemed more promising than the exit to the hallway, which would require more exits.

He jogged to the shelving, searching for pieces he could use to get to where he was going. He needed to plan though, so he fetched a feathery pen and some paper. He drew the window as a barrier with two sides, noting that he would need something to lift himself and his newfound tools up, and he would need to build his way down the other side.

He finished his drawing and set the pen down to look around. He pulled out the rest of the pens, along with a set of unsharpened drawing pencils. These could be useful to him later. He pondered a ladder, but there was no apparent string to tie them with.

He tested his strength with a book. He was surprised to find that he could easily pull the books out and drag them around. This would be difficult, but with planning, he was sure that he could build a ladder out of the books. Of course, looking between the window and the shelving, he realized that this would take a long time. He would need something that would take him less time.

That was when he noticed how the items were distributed on the shelves. If he knocked off a bunch of books from one side of each shelf, the shelving might well lean and fall to the wall by the window. That would be the easiest way up. From there, he would just need a way down.

He wrote down some calculations, taking into account the approximate weight of the shelf and its books. He needed to keep the weight well distributed, with enough weight on one side that it would tip over, after all.

With that, he hurried up the shelves, one by one pushing off books and kicking off items as he made his way up. At first, it did not seem to do much, but slowly the shelf started to lean and groan. In fact, at one point, he realized that it was leaning and groaning too much, as the shelving was not very well built.

Of course, now that he thought about it, it was likely that Soldier helped Merasmus put things together, since they were roommates. Engineer had seen the man’s handiwork enough times to know what was going to happen next. And, as the shelves leaned, he threw himself off, aiming for the desks, in hopes of avoiding severe injury.

Aside from the feeling of bruising, he was okay. He had landed on the back of the chair, which in hindsight was probably a better perch. He had intended to miss it though, as a habit told him landing on something like that might break his ribs. It is a much different story when one is very small and very light.

He turned to look at what had happened. The shelving had all but collapsed. More books had fallen from it. But, the important part was that a single side had remained intact and the shelves were still attached. He could climb back up and leap from there to the window.

Now he needed something to get him down. Dropping down from the chair, he looked around the wreckage. So much more had been exposed, since many items seemed to have been hidden amongst others. He was surprised, but relieved to find string was hiding amongst the shelves.

He took the wound up string and began tying it to the pencils, creating a rope type of ladder. He hoped it would be long enough, given he only had a set number of pens and pencils. He could not have carried much more than those up, anyways. It was a hassle to get all of those pens and pencils up the shelves, and especially dealing with the string, which felt like rope to him, tugging at him from the ball. He had nothing to cut it, so he decided to deal with it. If nothing else, it would be a support weight.

The tricky part was getting from the shelf to the window with the pens and pencils. If he threw it, it would likely roll and fall right off to the floor he just came up from. So, he took a leap of faith, inhaling deeply before he jumped with the heavy load.

He thanked his lucky stars when he managed to land on two feet. He carefully placed the ladder there so he could inspect the window. It had a lock, which was easy to flip over. The most amazing part was that the window was so easy to slide open. When he slid it, he smelt the oil along the slider insides, which told him why it was so easy to open. It was a well-cared for window.

He propped it open on his back, rolling his ladder under it to the other side. He let the window drop, locking the string in place. With a gentle nudge with his foot – he had to remind himself that he had no boots, just the fuzzy feet that looked like they were meant to be boots – he let the ladder unravel, falling down the wall.

He could not tell how far up, but the ladder did stop at some point. He was sure it was not a long drop, but had to be better than just dropping down from this point. So, he carefully climbed over the edge and made his way down the ladder to the garden below.


	2. Big World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Engineer helps Solly calm down and patch things up with Merasmus.

The light outside had been bright before, beaming beautifully through the window. But down in the garden, beneath the overgrown shrubs, amongst the over saturated earth, the Engineer was in a dark stink hole. It smelled of wet earth and something nasty, maybe bugs.

He cringed at the smell, as he made his way through the muck. The plants towered above him, blocking out all sunlight and leaving him in mostly darkness. He struggled through the overgrowth, seeking a path to the light.

After a while, he was tuckered out and sat down. Despite the gross feeling of the mud, he plopped down on it. What was the point anyways? He was only a ragdoll now. If Merasmus claimed he could not put him in his own body, then that probably meant that he did not have that capability.

He was not sitting there long, before he heard Merasmus’ booming voice, “Engineer! Engineer! Come back! Come out!”

He got up and started towards the voice. He hoped that it would lead him out of this muck, at least. It was better to be captured than to be stuck out here. He would just have to plot another way out of the house.

“He probably ran away because he doesn’t like your cooking,” he heard Soldier’s voice.

He ran to it. He almost immediately burst out of the brush into bright light. It stunned him so much that he ran right into Soldier’s boot.

“Stop whining,” Merasmus snapped, “You love my cooking. And besides, he can’t eat…Engineer! Engineer come out!”

He was too late to peel himself off of the boot as a big hand reached down and grabbed him. He winced but was in very little pain when he was squeezed. Strange, given he had imagined that this tight a grip, which caused the felt to bend and fold, would have broken ribs and crushed internal organs.

“Is this what you are looking for?” Soldier said, no longer seeing what was in his hand, due to his eyes being covered by his helmet.

“Ah yes! Thank you!” Merasmus strolled towards him.

Soldier got the bright idea to toss the little Engineer, which caused Merasmus and the Engineer both to scream. He was relieved when he landed in the old spindly fingers, instead of on the ground. Pain was still pain after all.

“Be careful!” Merasmus exclaimed.

“Take your toy, I’m going to get some meat,” Soldier stomped off.

“Soldier, at least give it a chance!” Merasmus pleaded, showing him the Engineer in his hand.

“I am not playing with your doll, Merasmus!” Soldier barked.

“No! I mean…let it talk to you?” Merasmus offered, “It’s alive. And it’s just like him.”

Soldier rounded on the wizard so fast that the taller man nearly fell to the ground, causing the Engineer to gasp at the jolting movement. Soldier held a finger to Merasmus’ face, “You cannot simply replace men like that! There is _no_ replacing the Engineer! They may have gotten a new hardhat, but they won’t replace _him_! He was a good friend, you can’t fix that with a doll!”

Merasmus tried to plead with him, “I know, Soldier! I’m just trying t-”

“Stop trying!” Soldier barked at him, before storming off into the house.

Merasmus sighed, standing there with the Engineer in two hands. Engineer paused to think about this a bit more. Whether he was him or just a doll, he was still Soldier’s friend. It hurt to see him look so down, to seem so angry. It was almost touching though, just to see him be so upset over his loss. That just meant that he needed to convince Soldier that he was indeed the Engineer, and to do that he would need Merasmus’ help.

“I’m sorry…er…little guy,” Merasmus said to him.

“Would prefer you didn’t call me little,” he insisted, looking up at Merasmus’ solemn face.

“Alright Engineer,” he nodded, “I just wanted to give him something that would make him happy again. He had one friend in the entire world. One man who knew him so well. And then there’s me, who doesn’t always understand why he is the way he is.” Tears were forming in his eyes, tears he had to rub away with knobby knuckles. “But, I care about him.”

“Well then, we need to work together, don’t we?” Engineer asked. Merasmus stared at him through one eye in response, while he rubbed the tears out of the other. “I _am_ the Engineer, son,” he explained, “So I would appreciate that you treat me like you would normally. Secondly, I’ll need to actually talk with Solly.”

“How will you get him to listen? I cannot even get him to listen, and I’ve been living with the man for at least three decades or more!” Merasmus said, with a helpless tone.

“I’ll just have to get him when he doesn’t have his wits about him,” Engineer answered.

“He has wits?” Merasmus gave him a deadpan look.

“I know it seems silly, Soldier’s just better to talk to when he’s real out of it,” he explained.

“So we get him drunk!” Merasmus cheered.

“No no,” Engineer raised his hands in hopes of calming him down, “I mean that we wait until he goes to bed. I’ll wake him and get him to talk. He opens up a bit more and doesn’t think too much.”

“Soldier thinks?” Merasmus seemed like he was in disbelief.

“Come on now,” Engineer pressed, “You’ve been roommates for so long, you should know he just thinks a little differently.”

“Right,” Merasmus averted his eyes and bit the inside of his lip, “Roommates.”

“Let’s just wait it out. Put me in his room after he’s started snoring,” he explained, “I’ll handle the rest.”

 

When the Soldier’s snores became loud, Merasmus brought the Engineer to Soldier’s room, carefully setting him inside. Merasmus waited outside, giving the Engineer ample space to talk with the man without any other provocations. Much to the Engineer’s relief, the bed had quite an assortment of things around it, with a mess that was not akin to the Soldier, but worked in the Engineer’s favor.

He clambered up the mess to a bedside nightstand, and leaped over onto the blankets. He misjudged the slope and as Soldier’s body shifted, the Engineer almost fell. His outcry was heard and the Soldier suddenly turned, changing the slope completely. He yowled as he fell, landing with a soft _thump_.

He heard Soldier snuffle, his snores quieting down. He quickly clambered up the ladder of clutter again, this time jumping onto the pillow beside his head. He slid down onto the mattress, slightly perturbed by the Soldier’s massive size at this angle.

He took a deep breath before he knelt down and started talking, “Hey there Solly. It’s been a while, hasn’t it. Well, I don’t really know how long it’s been. I just know things aren’t what they used to be. And you done took it hard.”

Soldier’s eyes fluttered open, though barely. His lips parted a bit, letting out his rank breath, which smelled distinctly of mutant turkey and beer. That made the Engineer wince with disgust.

“Engie? That you?” Soldier muttered.

“Yup, it’s me, Jane,” he said shifting himself so he was in the line of sight without catching direct wind of the man’s breath.

“Can’t be,” Soldier whispered, “Engie wouldn’t call me that.”

Engineer sighed, remembering Soldier’s rule about his name. He preferred everybody calling him Soldier. He even liked the short version of _Solly_ , once they explained what it was short for.

“I know that, Solly,” he sighed, “You don’ like nobody, not even your friends, callin’ you Jane. But, I know everything about you, don’ I? So, it stands to reason that I would know your name.”

“Spy knows my name,” Soldier growled, his eyes narrowing, “How do I know you’re not a Spy?!”

Engineer sighed and shook his head, “It’s me, boy. It’s Francis.”

“Francis!” the Soldier exclaimed, throwing off the blanket and scooping him off the mattress. The Engineer was so thrown off, that he almost screamed with fear. He thought the man was gonna throw him or rip him to shreds or something. “I can’t believe it’s you!”

“Believe it!” Engineer chuckled nervously, glancing down at the floor way below him.

“It’s good to see you!” a few tears glistened in the man’s eyes as he smiled at the little Engineer.

Engineer tried to smile back at him as big as he could. It was always strange, the way Soldier saw things. Few people knew the Soldier’s name, but just about everybody knew the Engineer’s name. Yet for some reason, he thought it was more proof that the little ragdoll knew his own name, rather than the fact that he knew the Soldier’s name.

“It’s good to see you too, Solly,” he said hesitantly, “I heard you been…real down.”

He sighed at the thought. It was never easy to get Soldier to admit that he was upset about something complex. He did not like thinking about complex things.

“You been…acting mighty poorly to your roommate too,” he added.

“My roommate?” Soldier blinked at him, “Merasmus? I’m good to Merasmus. You don’t have to worry about him. He is just a cry baby, much of the time.”

“Not from what I seen, Soldier,” the Engineer said sternly, “From what I seen, you ain’t doin’ so good to your roommate. You been fighting a lot?” Engineer explained, calmly and carefully.

“No!” Soldier quickly denied it.

“Come on, Soldier,” Engineer pressed, “I seen ya.”

“It’s not always peachy,” Soldier admitted, “Sometimes I have to do things Merasmus’ way, and I don’t like it all the time. It would be nice if he did things my way.”

“How often have you gotten your way though, Solly?” Engineer asked, “I noticed your handiwork in his study. The shelving?”

Soldier gave him a big grin, “I helped him put his stuff together! He was mostly whiney the whole time, but he eventually saw my way with things!” He had so much pride in that stupid grin.

“Boy, you really need to work on finding a middle ground with Merasmus,” he insisted, “You ain’t doing too good. You might not be friends, but that is not a far cry from roommates. I doubt he’s gonna tolerate you much longer if you keep up the attitude you been having.”

He lost the smile so fast. It went so fast, that Engineer was trying to decide if he was frowning or not. His pride seemed to slip away quickly as he became somber at the explanation that Engineer gave. It made the Texan worry that maybe he took a step too many in the wrong direction.

“You think he would leave? You think he would leave me?!” Soldier spoke with panic in his voice.

“Ain’t it his name on the property? Think he would probably kick you out,” Engineer explained.

Panic filled the Soldier, a flood of dread that made his blue eyes bigger. Not much could shock the Soldier, but this seemed to. For a moment, he was not sure if he broke the man’s mind, seeing as he was not moving or speaking. Not even his lip twitched.

Then all of a sudden, he released his kinetic energy and tightened his grip on the Engineer, leaping from the bed, “I can’t let that happen! Engie! What do I do? You gotta help me!”

Engineer groaned under the hands’ pressure but was not going to ignore the plea. He wriggled, but found no room to get free or even remotely comfortable. He would just have to sit tight for the moment, while he got Soldier to calm down.

“Now calm down, son,” he said, “Sit down and we’ll talk about this. It ain’t nothing to get this upset about. N-”

“No!” Soldier exclaimed, “It is! He _is_ worth getting upset about!”

Engineer felt a bit of panic seep into his seams, as he tried to settle the poor Soldier down, “Now listen, don’t fret about it. We can fix th-”

“Engie! I can’t lose! I can’t! N-not! Not like this!” real tears started forming in the Soldier’s eyes, faster than he could wipe them away.

“Solly, are you crying?” he felt genuinely surprised at this.

“Please help me, Engie,” Soldier pleaded, as the tears fell down his face.

“Alright, alright,” the Engineer tried to sound calm and collected, “Just calm down and set me on the nightstand.” Soldier sniffled and obeyed, bending to Engineer’s eye level. “Now listen, first thing you need to do is apologize,” he explained carefully.

“Apologize! But I haven’t done anything wrong!” the Soldier protested with frustration.

“I’m sure you didn’t mean nothing,” he chose his words cautiously, “But, that don’t mean you haven’t done no harm to Merasmus. He’s been pretty keen on cheering you up and you’ve been pretty sour.”

Soldier was quiet for a minute, turning his eyes down at the ground. His puzzled expression changed to realization, then to sadness, back to realization, then to lip biting frustration. He did not seem okay to just process this on his own.

“Don’t consider it something to do with your pride, Soldier,” the Engineer insisted, “Just take it as it is. It’s an apology, and he deserves one.”

“You’re right,” Soldier nodded, “He deserves it.”

He straightened and walked out of the room, leaving the Engineer on the nightstand. Curious, Engineer clambered down the ladder of rubble to head out the door. He peered around to see the two men talking in the hallway. Their voices were soft, but they were too big of voices for the Engineer not to hear.

“I…I’m glad, Soldier,” Merasmus said softly. There were tears glistening in his eyes, as he smiled at the shorter man.

“I didn’t mean it,” Soldier said, stepping close to Merasmus. Suddenly they were embracing, with Soldier’s face pressed into the front of Merasmus’ nightgown.

He watched with relief as they dropped the embrace. They were friends again, getting on like two brothers. They had been living together too long to not at least be pals to some extent, Engineer thought. That had to count for something.

He looked on with confusion as Soldier stepped in again, rising onto tip toes as their faces met. He blinked, confused and bewildered as he watched Merasmus’ eyes close as he met Soldier halfway. He was unable to look away, but too confounded by what he was watching, as the two men kissed.

 

Engineer had later been returned to the study to sleep in peace, given no explanation for what happened. He was fairly certain that both men had gone to the same bed though. Not that he had any evidence for that.

He did not sleep much through the night, troubled by what he saw and confused by what it meant. He thought he knew the Soldier well. He was the only nice friend the man had, and Soldier was one of the most open people that the Engineer knew. How could he have kept such a secret from him for so long?

It kept him up long into the night. He was so tired in the morning that he barely peeled himself off of the desk he had been placed on. Being his creator, Merasmus did not see much point in being _a good host_. It seemed that the man was stuck on the idea that Engineer was still just a doll, a doll that had been magically given all of the memories of the man who had died.

When he did manage to get himself out of the study and into the kitchen, he found Merasmus and Soldier talking. It was like they were old friends, with Soldier doing most of the talking, as he normally did. It was like nothing had happened between them.

The Engineer figured this was for the best, given their apparent relationship. Now that he thought about it, that meant that he did not just make things better between friends, he saved a relationship. That was a lot to take a bite out of and chew.

He was not really sure what to think about that. After all, he had always known relationships, especially romantic relations, to be kept between a man and a woman. A man and a man just seemed unfitting. He tried not to think about it though, not wanting to imagine too much, or get caught up in poor thoughts.

“Engie!” Soldier exclaimed, when he noted the doll in the room. He got up from his chair and picked him up, setting him on the table.

“Soldier,” Merasmus gave the man a look.

“What is it?” Soldier merely smiled at him, with that big stupid grin.

Engineer gazed curiously at the two. It was a curious wonder that the two got along at all. But, what could Merasmus see in the loud mouthed American Soldier, who constantly blew his things up and made his place a mess. From what Engineer had understood, the man hated his roommate, keeping him around only for the sake of paying the bills.

“You’ve gotten dirt all over the clean table now!” Merasmus said, gesturing around the Engineer.

He looked down at his feet to see that there was still some dirt caked to his legs from his venture out in the mud the day before. Not having a proper wash felt awful, now that he realized that dirt was falling off of him onto the clean surface. He was never one to be fussy about cleanliness, but even he had standards and washed his hands before a meal.

“Nuh uh!” Soldier barked, pointing to the dirt on the table, “It’s not clean! It’s got dirt all over it!”

“That was from him!” Merasmus gestured a bit angrily towards the Engineer.

“Your entire table is covered in dirt!” Soldier spat.

“Soldier,” Merasmus gave the man a dead pan look.

“Now look, I’m sorry I got your clean table messy,” Engineer decided to find the middle ground for them, “I’ll clean it up, as soon as I get my hands on a wipe. Didn’t mean to make any kind of mess.”

“It’s not your fault,” Merasmus said, giving Soldier a pointed look.

Soldier slammed a fist on the table, causing everything and the Engineer to do a bounce. Engineer landed on his backside, looking up at them, as they faced off like fierce giants. He was stumped at seeing the Soldier turn so angry so suddenly, and with somebody he supposedly cared so much about.

“You’re implying again! You’re always implying!” Soldier pointed a finger in Merasmus’ face.

“Don’t shake that finger at me!” the wizard scorned.

“I wouldn’t shake anything at you were not making up accusations!” Soldier retorted, with frustration.

“I have yet to accuse you of anything!” Merasmus declared.

“Then I’m going to work!” Soldier shouted loudly.

“Fine then!” Merasmus scoffed, “Go to work and pout like a fool!”

Soldier did not get three steps away, before he turned around and scooped up the Engineer, “I’m taking him with me!”

“Soldier, that is not a good idea!” Meramus exclaimed, reaching out to try and take the ragdoll away from him.

“I am taking him!” he announced, tucking Engineer in a pocket, “I will show the others that Engie’s gonna be okay!”

He stormed out of the house without another word. Francis looked back to see Merasmus in the window, with a worried look on his face. This could spell disaster for the little ragdoll Engineer, if he was not careful. War was no place for a little man made of felt and thread.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited this while I was sick. I hope it turned out alright. I have an idea for how this will tie into the overarching story of Mann Co Productions, but that won't come up in this story. (only in some hints that you might recognize if you've read my other work)  
> Anyways, hope you enjoyed. I'm gonna be down a while with a severe cough and fever.


	3. A Busy Day at the Base

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soldier ends up bringing Engineer to the base. He gets to see Scout, who is a bit on the sensitive side when it comes to the topic of the Engineer's death. Not everybody's so keen to pick up on what the ragdoll really is though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that I have finished the notes for this story, it might pick up a bit more. Especially in writing. Some of my notes are due to change, but we'll see.  
> Due to not having a proper computer and several other fics to write, I will still be a little bogged down.

The Soldier marched all the way to work. All the Engineer could do was sit there in his pocket and wait. He was glad he did not have a stomach, or the dizziness of the swaying would have caused him to vomit. Looking up under the helmet though, he could see that Soldier was fairly happy and that this was his brisk walk reserved for when he was pleased. He might as well just enjoy the Soldier’s upbeat and optimistic attitude.

When they reached work though, it was as if a dark cloud had settled upon the base. It was nothing like Francis remembered. It was quiet and dank, with markings on the walls from fights. The others did not seems to talk, leaving the place in a hollow empty silence. That was unlike the lively base the Engineer remembered waking up to once upon a time.

Scout was not his noisy and talkative self. He was quietly tossing a ball in the air, flopped awkwardly on the couch in the recreational room. Being the first mercenary they encountered must have been enough for Soldier to decide that Scout needed cheering up firstly.

“Here! Talk to Engie!” Soldier passed the Engineer from his pocket to Scout’s hands, “I’m going to go see Demo about rocket polish.”

“What?” Scout looked from the rag doll to the Soldier and back, dumbfounded, “The hell is this for, Soldier?”

“Watch him for me!” Soldier said, with a smile, “I’ll be back.”

“Pfft! Yea right!” Scout rolled his eyes and tossed the little Engineer aside, “Like I’m babysitting a doll!”

“Hey now!” the Engineer protested, getting to his feet and brushing some dirt off of his leg. He was still not as clean as he would like to be though. “It ain’t glamorous bein’ a doll, but it ain’t no reason to be throwin’ me around!”

“Engie?” the Scout perked up very suddenly and looked around with disbelief. His eyes settled on the ragdoll, finally realizing that he was moving.

“Yup, it’s me son,” the Engineer smiled up at him.

Scout leaped from the couch, “Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Haunted doll! Haunted doll!”

“I am not haunted,” Engineer frowned at him.

“Holy shit! You can talk and everything?” the Scout said, panicking from his perch on the armrest.

“It’s just me, son,” Engineer pointed to the couch seat, “Settle on down. No need to freak out.”

“It’s…Hardhat? It’s really you?” the Scout got a bit closer, lowering his face to get a better look at the doll.

“Yup,” Engineer sighed, “It’s really me.”

“Holy shit!” Scout breathed with disbelief.

“Now, there ain’t no need for that, son,” he insisted.

“It’s just that…you been dead for like…months!” Scout said, slowly settling back down on the couch, “How’d you even get here? I mean, how are you alive? How’d you get back? I mean, this is…wow…” He shook his head with disbelief.

“Calm down, boy,” Engineer insisted, “I can only answer one question at a time. So, take a breath and start again.”

Scout took a careful breath. He settled into his seat, turning his torso towards the Engineer. He laid arm had on the armrest and the other on the back of the couch.

“I’m sorry,” Scout said, with another sigh, “It’s just…it’s been real hard. It’s been really hard to get on without you. You’re a…you’re a friend, you know? Well, in a way you’re more than a friend. A really good friend. A dear friend. I don’t know how to explain it.”

He turned away from him, putting his hands together to twiddle his thumbs. He looked down at his hands clasped together. He seemed like he was sinking in on himself. It nearly tore Engineer up seeing the poor youth all torn up like this.

“I…I missed you Hardhat,” Scout admitted, “You were a real good friend. A great pal. And-” Scout cut off as he sniffled.

“I’m right here, partner,” he walked over to pat Scout’s hip, hoping to console him.

Scout looked at him, eyes full of tears, “Thanks pallie.”

“Don’t mention it,” he smiled.

“Aw man,” Scout ran his hand up, pushing up the bill of his cap to rub the front of his hair, “We have _months_ to catch up on! I mean, holy shit! We got a lot to talk about!”

“Ain’t been…so long for me though,” the Engineer admitted, “Just sort of woke up a few mornings ago remembering the respawn going down.”

“Oh…right…that,” Scout pulled down his cap and averted his eyes.

He tried to chew on his lip, but found that there seemed to be no connection between his teeth and lips. Maybe he had no teeth. Or perhaps he had no lips. He was not entirely sure.

“Come on, let’s talk,” he insisted.

He hoisted himself up onto Scout’s thick leg with a grunt. He seated himself with a sigh, then swung his legs up to rest across his leg. He smiled up at Scout, hoping to assure him.

“Just you and me here, partner,” he added, “We got all day. I’m not goin’ anywhere!”

“Yea but-” Scout was cut off by the sudden click of the speakers.

“Attention! All mercenaries to the respawn room! Countdown begins in four minutes!” the Administrator announced.

The Engineer sighed as Scout picked him up. “Uh, I don’t got all day,” Scout explained, “But maybe we can still hang out.”

He held the Engineer ragdoll to his chest as he made his way from the recreation room to the respawn room. Engineer remembered this way so well. If only he was their height again. His boots could have led him there by instinct.

When they arrived, most of the others were already there. Dressed up and preparing their weapons, everybody seemed to be unaware of the tiny addition to the room. He could not even get himself heard, as they spoke loudly amongst themselves. They even did some pre-battle taunts, dancing around and doing flips, just to boost their morale before the fight.

He missed that already. It did not feel that long ago when he had human hands and feet, and could dance around with the others. When Scout set him on the bench so he could get into his locker, he watched the others with pensive silence.

There was a new Engineer. He talked like him, kind of. It was not the same voice, but he was from right around Mississippi, based on his accent and linguistic abilities. He dressed almost the same too, with overalls that were red to fit the team, work boots, a yellow hard hat and a orangish yellow glove to cover one hand.

He looked down at his hands. These hands used to have fingers. They could lift things, move things, and build assorted machinery. They also used to help his friends up, picking them up when they fell, or offering emotional support when they felt like they were alone. Now, he did not even have the robotic attachment that used to double as a weapon from time to time.

These hands were useless to him. The burning frustration and anger welled up in him and he kicked at a glove lying on the bench. It did not go far, given that it was heavier than it looked. Still, he was mad enough to kick it again.

“Yo, Hardhat, you ready?” Scout turned to pick him up.

“Well, yes I am, partner!” the new Engineer piped up, with a keen Southern Man Grin™ that could have had anybody played for a fool in the right circumstances.

“Not _you_ dummy,” Scout showed him the ragdoll in his hand, “ _This_ Hardhat!” He had a big smile on his face that made Engineer cringe, realizing that the others were not going to be as attentive to details, and would be writing Scout off as a little child with a toy.

“How cute,” Spy teased, bending to look a little closer at the ragdoll.

“Aww! Baby’s got a babydoll!” the Demoman taunted, with a belly full of laughter.

Sniper and the new Engineer just started chuckling together. It seemed a bit odd. Sniper was laughing, and the new guy was chuckling, but the way the timing lined up did not seem right. Were those two close pals already?

He never thought himself a jealous or vengeful man. He was not the kind to go out looking for trouble either. He was certainly not one to pick favorites, of all things, especially among his friends. But, something did not seem quite right.

Like Spy, Sniper was the type of guy who kept to himself. He was a bit secretive, and only charming with those he finally let into his life and his personal time. Once you got to know him, he was a good guy, but it took a lot of hard work to get to that point with him. He had thought their friendship was something real special, so how could he be such close friends with the new guy already?

“Fuck you guys!” Scout barked at them.

“What are you all talking about?” the Medic asked, as he and the Heavy Weapons Guy walked in.

“Scout got a new doll!” the Demoman pointed and laughed, “And he’s takin’ it out to the battle with him!”

“That ain’t smart, boy,” the new Engineer commented.

“Ja,” the Medic nodded in agreement, “You are likely going to get it dirty or ruined. And it’s probably too big to respawn with you in your pocket.”

“If little man wants doll, he can have,” the big Russian said, reaching over to clap the Scout on the shoulder. He was trying to be supportive, but Scout was taking it as talking down to him, and thus glared up at him. “If you lose we will pick it up for you,” he insisted.

“I don’t have time for that,” the Medic made a dismissive noise.

“Would you guys cut it out! It’s not just a doll!” Scout exclaimed.

The Pyro suddenly made a noise and came over, reaching out with gloved hands, hopping up and down excitedly. Given the firebug’s nature, they probably meant no harm, but that did not make the motions unalarming. He felt bad, but was still relieved when Scout pulled him out of the Pyro’s reach.

“Hey! No Pyro!” Scout barked.

Pyro made a disappointed sound. Heavy clapped them on the shoulder, hoping to cheer them up.

“Enjoy your toy while it lasts, I suppose,” the Spy commented, gesturing with one hand that held a cigarette between two gloved fingers.

“I ain’t no toy, son,” the Engineer finally spoke up.

At least Spy heard it, staring at him with utter disbelief. He almost dropped the cigarette from his hand, he was so surprised. He stared at him for the longest time, stunned beyond belief.

“You gonna throw it at the enemy team? Make ‘em play with it?” the Demoman teased.

“Shut up!” Scout barked again.

“Come off it, Demo! Leave him alone,” the Medic said, gesturing to the Demoman, “Let him play with toys if he wants to. We have a job to do!”

“Aye!” Demo nodded in agreement.

“What are you all doing?” the Soldier interrupted the air in the room with his loud and gruff voice.

“Hey! Soldier! Tell these guys, this is not a doll!” Scout insisted, holding out the ragdoll Engineer for Soldier to see.

With a frown, Soldier plucked him right out of the Scout’s hand, “He is _not_ a doll, Scout! He is a _rag_ doll!”

Snickers came from the others as the Soldier approached his locker. He set the Engineer up on a high shelf there. He tilted his helmet back and smiled at him.

“Engie, I need you to stay put here,” he said, shaking a finger at him, “It’s not safe out there for a little ragdoll.”

“I ain’t a child, son,” the Engineer insisted.

“Let’s move ‘em out!” the new guy called to the others as the countdown began.

“I’ve gotta go,” the Soldier shouldered his favorite bazooka, “I’ll be back later.”

He sighed and watched as they all filtered out of the room. There was no way he was going to stay put there. And, given he had no apparent bones, he figured it was safe enough to jump down to the bench. It still hurt a lot, but nothing was broken or unusable.

After checking himself over, just to be sure, he hurried along the bench, hopping off the end of it. He hurried over to the gate, but it did not respond to his presence. In fact, it did not even seem to know he was there. He tried everything he could to try and get it to open, but his mere size made it impossible. He tried bumping it, to see if it might register that somebody was trying to get out of respawn, but to no avail.

He backed up to the opposite wall, to get a running start. That was when the Scout came running down the hall. Apparently not noticing him, Scout ran right out of the respawn hooting and hollering. The Engineer hurried after him, wanting to get out of respawn and into the open air.

The world felt better, once he was in the open air and out in the sunlight. He could take it all in, and feel like he was back on the team. The distant patter patter of guns going off caught his attention, and he followed the sound towards where the others were probably defending.

“What have we here?” a familiar voice hit his ears, just as he hit something invisible. He grunted, pushing off of the shoe as the blue smoke appeared, creating a full figured Spy. He looked up at the man himself, and turned to run as he went to one knee. “Don’t flee. Let’s see what you are. You look like something Merasmus left behind.”

He turned the ragdoll over, holding tightly to the fabric based man, as he writhed to try and escape. His eyebrow twitched with curiosity, looking over the ragdoll Engineer curiously. He seemed strangely intrigued with something that was innocuously meant to be lifeless, or otherwise played with by children.

“A moving doll,” he shook his head and clicked his tongue, “I’ll admit that’s pretty impressive. I was starting to think the new Engineer had nothing on the old one.” The Spy stood up, still holding the Engineer in his grasp.

The BLU grabbed his satchel, a small thing like a purse that he always carried around. Engineer always teased him for it, but the man seemed to keep a decent amount of things in there. He opened it up and tucked the Engineer just inside, clasping it so that it held him in just under the arms.

“A keepsake,” he chuckled, turning his head to look around, “That idiot should really take better care of his toys if he doesn’t want them plucked up.”

Engineer kicked the inside of the satchel, but he could not get a grip. He put his hands on the edges, trying to push himself out, but it held too tightly to him. He found himself stuck there, swinging with the motion of the satchel – a movement that would have made him sick if he had a stomach right now – waiting for something to happen.

“Aaah,” the Spy sighed, creeping around a corner out of sight. The RED Scout came bursting out of the respawn, running right past the Spy without noticing him. “If I am honest with myself, maybe I _do_ miss him,” he sighed, a black gloved hand gently petting the ragdoll.

Ticked off, the Engineer started to writhe harder. He tried his very hardest to escape. But it seemed that even threads and cotton could tire out, as his body seemed to lose all of the energy he could have used. So much for escaping to the battlements to see his pals.

“Why’d I even come out here?” he muttered to himself.

 

He was trapped in that satchel for what seemed like hours. All he could do was watch, waiting and seeing as the Spy stabbed person after person. Eventually a break came around, and the Spy went to some high perch on an odd building. It was only odd because he never reckoned the man would choose it. Granted, the BLU was known for climbing in high places, where nobody would look for him, so that he could jump down on unsuspecting enemies.

He unlatched the satchel, setting the ragdoll aside to pull out his lunch. He sighed, relaxing back against one hand, while he ate with the other. His eyes, full of a look of thought and the experience of a traveled man, gazed out upon the mass of buildings beyond.

“What a day,” he sighed, “Everyday is the same now though. Merasmus doesn’t even seem to be up for much fun either.”

The Engineer peered over the roof, but found himself too scared of falling if he stepped the wrong way. With boots, he might have had the friction for it. But with the angle, and his smooth little ragdoll feet, he would have slid right along the shingles and off the edge. His last hope would be that perhaps there would be a gutter he could grab onto. He was pretty sure this building did not have any gutters though.

“You know? It was really easy to have it out for people when you could always rely on respawn,” the Spy sighed, tilting his head back, “Why they had to go and mess everything up is beyond me. I’ll bet they’re trying to keep everything quiet too. Don’t you think?”

His head turned to the Engineer, who peered up at him curiously. He could have asked him quite a few questions, but could not decide on which topic to ask first. For now, he figured that he was safer as long as the man thought he was just a doll on whom magic was cast.

“Never woulda wished for a new Engineer, you know?” the Spy said, “Aaaah…so strange that this little doll could bring those thoughts out of me so easily.” He reached over to pat Engie on the head. “Oh! Wait…do you eat?”

The Engineer paused. Given he did not so much as feel hunger, he felt it was safe to assume that this body could not even consume food. He touched his face, right where his mouth should be. It was hard to tell if it was his mouth that he was touching though, so he just put his hand down and shook his head.

“Ah…good…because I didn’t bring enough to share. Sorry,” the Spy chuckled.

He rolled his eyes and sat down. He might as well settle in and wait for the Spy to finish his meal. There was no safe way down without the man’s assistance after all. He would just have to sit there and wait for him.

“I keep expecting you to talk back,” the Spy frowned, turning his gaze down to the ground below. He did not seem bothered about being up so high. Maybe he climbed up onto buildings too often to be bothered with heights. “Watch your mouth, son,” the Spy mimicked the Engineer’s own voice, “This wrench does two things, boy! It works on machines and it works on Spies!”

Engineer could not help but laugh. At first he was irritated by the imitation of himself. But, hearing those lines, things he probably said without thinking too many times, he could not help it. It was in his own humor.

“Ahh…it’s good to hear that laughter,” the Spy sighed, as if relieved.

“What?” the Engineer was surprised that the man was not startled. He had been sure that the ragdoll could not talk, so why was he not startled by a laughing doll?

“I was thinking that perhaps you would talk,” the Spy said, “But there’s…a little something different to it. It’s a different laugh.”

“M’ laugh is my own laugh, son,” the Engineer argued.

The BLU Spy smiled back at him. He could not decide if it was mischief, fondness, haughtiness, irritation or pleasure that he saw in that smirk. Maybe it was everything.

“A machine made by the new Engineer? If it had a voice, it would be his,” the Spy said, “But your voice and your laugh belongs to Francis.”

“Now hold on just a minute!” he got up to his feet, pointing at the Spy, “Where do you get off- er…making accusations!”

The Spy laughed a bit, “So tell me, where did you really come from, my little ragdoll friend?”

He blinked at the Spy, confused and unsure of what to do. If he told the truth, the Spy might rip him apart for being who he was. If he lied, the Spy might find out the lie and kill him anyways.

“ _Are_ you one of the Engineer’s creations?” the Spy pressed, “Or are you one of Merasmus’ little mishaps of magic?”

The Engineer got to his feet and took a step back, careful not to move where he could slide down the shingles. He was too nervous to move again though. His threads became taut with the feeling of anxiety building up.

“Mister, I don’t think you want to know the answer to that,” he said, hoping to sound a little ominous.

“At least tell me if you’re Francis,” the Spy insisted with a frown, “You obviously knew that it was his name. Are you some copy to mock his would-be existence?! Or are you just a piece of felt with a microphone and speaker?”

The Engineer puffed up his chest, feeling his anger blow up just a bit, “I ain’t no copy! And I sure as hell ain’t made with no speaker or microphone! I’m Francis dammit! I’m Francis McKragen! And you best not forget that so fast!”

The Spy sighed, closed his eyes and smiled. Francis looked on, confused and in disbelief. This was the enemy Spy, after all. Though, now that he thought about it, this guy was supposed to be in retirement.

“It’s good to hear your voice again, Francis,” the Spy opened his eyes and smiled at him.

“Y-you…” he sank back into his thoughts.

When he died and respawn went down, there had not been the two teams of mercenaries. It had not been RED against BLU anymore. Some of the BLUs had joined the REDs, but the rest had gone off to some sort of retirement or other job, along with a few REDs. Why this bit of information had escaped him before was beyond him.

“It’s been a long time,” the Spy smiled at him, “I was genuinely starting to think that you were just some cursed doll, the final remains of Merasmus’ final visit. I am glad that you are not.”

“What is going on?” he turned to look towards the fighting. There was not much that he could see from here, given the multitude of buildings beyond. He caught a Soldier jumping in the air, the loud raucous laughter of a Demoman and the blast of an explosion rising into the air with debris.

“An old fight,” the BLU sighed.

“We were fighting robots! And Merasmus! Last I remember, you’d left with the others,” Francis went on, needing answers.

“After you died, the robots all but vanished,” the Spy shrugged, “Remains of them are here and there. There have been no big efforts to clean up any of the rubbish. But, even Merasmus just sort of disappeared off of the face of the Earth.”

Francis was about to say something, but thought better of it. Maybe Merasmus would rather leave off on that last note. Maybe he was not supposed to be heard from by any other mercenary.

“Mann Co just sort of filled that hole by throwing us back into the two team fight again,” the Spy shrugged, “I had been on a rest retreat in the Alps, but I missed all of this. Coming back to find you were gone for good that was…that was a shock.”

“Didn’t think you thought that highly of me,” Francis noted, a bit bashful that he did not feel that concerned for the other man’s wellbeing in kind. For all of his work against him, way back before the robots, he had wanted to bash the Spy’s skull in so hard that he died permanently.

“Doesn’t look like you’ll be getting to work anytime soon though,” the Spy took out a napkin to clean off his hands.

“No,” Francis looked at his hands. He sighed with mournful regret.

Maybe if he had been faster on his feet he could have saved himself. Maybe if he had checked on respawn sooner he could have fixed it. Regardless of whether things were meant to play out the way they did or not, he was determined that there could have been a way to change what ultimately did happen.

“You are going to be hanging around here?” the Spy asked, with a look of curiosity as he peered at Francis.

“I suppose I am,” he looked around himself again, not sure what he was looking for, “I should get back to RED though. I’m supposed to be with…Scout I think?”

“Scout’s been dying too many times,” the Spy gestured dismissively with a wave of his hand, “You’ll just get stuck out there.”

“What do you reckon I do then, son?” Francis demanded, a bit irritated that he had to bargain with the BLU Spy.

“You can spend the day with me,” without so much as a request or a hint, the Spy picked him up and placed him back in the satchel, partly hanging out.

“Let me go, snake!” Francis exclaimed, scrambling to try and get out.

“Just stay put for now,” the Spy patted his head, before rising to his feet. He carefully made his way along the roof and down to one of the windows, using the inside stairs to get down to ground level.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BLU Spy is that enemy who secretly wants to be your friend, but will always refuse to be. He also really wants to just believe, which is why he is easily persuaded.  
> RED Scout is that boy who is strong in front of others, but he has a much deeper mind and heart.  
> RED Spy is a bit perplexed but not sure what to think yet.  
> RED Soldier is just a cinnamon roll who realizes that everybody else needs Francis McKragen around.  
> Francis is a good man with a way with having people just talk to him when they are feeling down.


	4. Things are a Little Different

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Engineer is saved by the Pyro. Pyro doesn't wanna give him up.

The BLU Spy proved himself to be clever against his adversaries, taking only the safe jabs where needed. He managed clean escapes, and especially avoided the Pyros. Francis was sure that in his state he would never be safe around a Pyro again.

He moved about the map, but generally did not do much in the overall fighting. He kept his distance, mostly watching what others were doing to report to his own teammates. This turned out to be pretty effective, as he never died the whole time and he was a benefit to his team, who nearly pushed to the end.

The payload did not quite make it. Just barely to the end, it was not over the edge when the bomb deactivated and the Administrator announced RED’s victory. Embarrassed and without his tools for espionage, the BLU fled. He did not get far before he was found by none other than the RED Pyro.

The masked mercenary was flicking his flame thrower on and off eagerly. He drew closer, taking slow steps towards his prey with caution for his surroundings. Lord only knew what kind of devilish smile could have been behind that mask.

The Spy backed away, hands raised in defense. He stammered some words that he hoped might stall his inevitable burning torture. All the while, Francis was trying once again to escape, this time because of death.

The movement drew attention and the Spy quickly snatched him free. He showed him to the Pyro, with a fearful and desperate look on his face, “Look! Look Pyro! It’s Engineer! D-do you want him?”

Francis closed his eyes, too scared to look for what might happen. His eyes popped open when he heard the cheerfully muffled noises coming from the mask. The Pyro dropped the muzzle of his flamethrower, reaching out to take the ragdoll with one hand. The moment the Engineer left his hand, the Spy fled, running as fast as he could.

Francis watched him go, then turned to look up at Pyro. The Pyro did not care about the Spy anymore. Suddenly he was very preoccupied with the Engineer.

“H-hey there, Pyro,” he was definitely trembling with fear as he gazed up at the Pyro.

The masked mercenary laughed with glee, then turned to run. He suddenly tripped over his weapon, falling to the ground. He kept his arm up in the air though, saving Francis the pain of being slammed to the ground.

He forced himself up off of the ground, grabbed the flame thrower and started skipping off. He was glad not to have a stomach, since the swaying around made him dizzy.

Pyro brought him back to the RED base, still skipping happily, even after putting his flamethrower away. He gently patted the Engineer’s head, seeming to smile. Maybe he would be harmless, Francis thought, with a hopeful mindset.

“Hey! Pyro!” Scout called, “Whacha got there?”

Immediately, the Pyro hid him behind his back. He was saying something muffled. It was probably some attempt to dismiss Scout’s curiosity.

“It ain’t gonna fool nobody, Pyro,” Francis spoke up.

“Ah hey, you have Hardhat?” Scout asked.

He could not see what was happening between the two, but he heard a noise from Pyro that sounded like denial or rejection. He figured Pyro was going to try to keep a hold of him. So long as he let him, Engineer was a passive receiver of whatever would happen to him.

That is not the kind of man Francis McKragen was though. So, he braced his hands against the top most finger and palm and pushed with all of his strength. The motion got Pyro curious and he brought the ragdoll out in front of himself.

Scout made an expression of affirmation, realizing that the Engineer was indeed in the Pyro’s hand. “Hand him over, buddy,” Scout held a hand out to take Francis.

“Nuh uh!” was the noise that the Pyro made, as he pulled the Engineer away, trying to block Scout from the rag doll with his body.

“Pyro!” Scout barked.

“Where the hell is Engie?” the Soldier roared from where his locker was.

Everybody froze and turned to look. Soldier slammed the door shut and started looking around the lockers. He seemed to think that maybe the ragdoll had fallen, completely oblivious of the loud and obvious argument going on nearby.

Scout turned back to Pyro, “You gotta give him back.”

“Nuh uh!” was Pyro’s response again, hugging Engineer to his chest.

“Give it!” Scout grabbed his wrists and started trying to pry Francis from his gloved hands.

It was a weird contortion. He was not sure if what he was feeling was mild pain or extreme discomfort. There was pinching and what would be bruising, as Scout tried to pull each bit of his body out of Pyro’s grip.

Pyro was not about to give up, using both hands and even doubling up on his grip. Francis was glad that there were no bones or organs inside of him. The fluff seemed to give away easily and return to its normal state when the pressure was removed. He would have hate injured lungs or broken bones. Not that this was any less uncomforting or disconcerting.

“Give it!” Scout exclaimed.

Pyro started shouting a long line that could have been an explanation, or a flurry of expletives. Either way, the mercenaries were not very keen to what he was saying. Francis figured it would be a good distraction if he tried to bring Pyro’s attention to that. Maybe even Scout’s attention could be diverted and this mild pain, or extreme discomfort, could be averted.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” he asked Pyro.

Pyro spoke again. Once again he was muffled by the mask. He did not seem the least bit aware that the others did not know what he was saying. Maybe in that mask everything was easy enough for him to hear, so he did not perceive how his own words were muffled.

“Nobody can understand you, pal!” Scout said, a bit irritably. He did not remove his hands from the Engineer though.

Pyro turned to Scout and hurriedly tried to explain something. Engineer could not make out what he was saying, but he got the feeling that he was starting to get frustrated.

“Yea, don’t hear ya, pallie,” Scout was practically taunting him at this point.

“Calm down,” Francis insisted, “You get all muffled behind that mask, Pyro. We don’t know what you’re saying.”

Pyro made a frustrated growl and tried to break it down into pieces. He could hear each word separately, but he could not tell what the word was. Scout looked even more lost, completely stumped at every sound that Pyro made.

Once Pyro finished, Scout said, “I didn’t get any of that.”

With an irritated growl, Pyro suddenly released the ragdoll. He balled his hands into fists and stormed out of the respawn room. Francis felt a little bad at making him upset, but was also relieved that he was not in the hands of the firebug. No telling what he might do.

“Woohoo! Yea, that’s right! Scout wins!” the younger mercenary cheered loudly.

“Boy, do you know anything about being humble?” Francis asked him.

“A little _thanks_ might have been in order,” Scout told him, pointedly.

“I get that, but you didn’t have to be so mean about it,” he nodded to him, “Pyro’s a teammate. He’s a good guy.”

“Been a real weirdo since he came back to the team though,” Scout said, with an irritated tone of voice.

“Just be nice to him next time,” he requested.

“Oh! You found Engie!” the Soldier interrupted their conversation, reaching to grab the doll right from Scout’s hand.

“Hey! What the-?” Scout looked befuddled at having the ragdoll leave his hand.

“You can see him tomorrow,” Soldier saluted the Scout, “Goodnight Scout!”

“It’s barely evening!” Scout exclaimed.

“I am going home early,” Soldier smiled, “I will be back early tomorrow at dawn! First thing! You ladies should be ready for the crack of sunrise!”

“Alright alright,” Scout rolled his eyes.

Francis sighed, putting his elbow on the hand and resting his chin there. Leave it to Soldier to be so… _Soldier_. He was quiet though, as he was tucked into a nice little pocket in a bag on Soldier’s belt, nestled where some grenades used to be. It was a gentle ride as the Soldier walked out of the base, and he fell asleep there long before they reached the castle.

He roused when he heard Merasmus’ voice, “So, how was your day?”

“Everything went well,” Soldier replied, “I kicked the BLUs’ asses. Had fried chicken for lunch. Oh! Engie got to see Scout!”

He almost added that he ended up having a long day with the BLU Spy, but he decided to leave that out. He was already perturbed enough by having met with the man, let alone spent the day in his satchel. He was not sure how he would explain such a situation to others, let alone himself.

“Glad to see you had a nice day,” Merasmus stepped around the table to approach him, “Looks like you both also had a rough day.”

“Not so rough,” Soldier shrugged, “Just the usual.”

“Your cheek is bruised,” Merasmus brushed a thumb against Soldier’s cheek.

“I was in a scuffle with the BLU Demoman,” he explained.

“He is still targeting you like that?” Merasmus asked, with concern in his voice.

“It’s the same as old times,” the Soldier shrugged, “We fight just like the old days!”

“Jane, you know that’s not-” Merasmus did not get out many words before Soldier puffed up his chest.

“Soldier, sir!” was the shouted response that interrupted his words.

Merasmus gave him an irritated glare, pausing for a minute for the silence to hit the Soldier’s skull. It was a little entertaining to see the two bicker, but the Engineer was already wanting out of that pocket. He started wriggling out of it, slowly getting himself onto the lip of the bag.

“Don’t yell at me, Jane,” Merasmus said, in a low growl, “Besides, I’m trying to tell you, that Demoman is not just fighting you, he’s been targeting you.”

“I don’t think so,” Soldier shook his head.

Francis carefully balanced himself on the edge. It was hard, given that Soldier always seemed to move. Looking down, he realized that he was a long ways up though. The fall would no doubt hurt, like a truck accident.

“He’s been targeting you for an end of the battle fight for every match since he went back to BLU,” Merasmus explained.

“Yea, we fight each other now,” Soldier said, as if it were common sense, “Instead of robots and monsters and Merasmus. Oh, that’s you.” Soldier giggled a little at himself.

“You’re not hearing me, Soldier,” Merasmus pleaded.

Francis seated himself on the back, to be a bit steadier, “Might I be clued in on this?”

Merasmus looked at him thoughtfully, “Well, I stopped being involved when the respawn broke down. I didn’t want to be involved in any more deaths, so I quit that job. Well, not _quit_ quit, but I demanded a transfer!”

“The BLUs went back to BLU, and the others came back,” Soldier added.

“Yes,” Merasmus nodded, “And while I was fine with them being friends, ever since they became enemies, the BLU Demoman has been rather vengeful.”

“Vengeful? Hmm…” Francis pondered this curiously. This seemed like just another battle between opposing men on opposing sides of the fight. That was not something abnormal.

“Soldier here doesn’t take it seriously,” Merasmus gave the man a pointed glare, before turning back to Francis, “But, I’ve noticed a trend. It happens most every day. Now he comes home with scuffs or injuries that the Demoman gave him.”

“I come home with all sorts of bruising in fights!” the Soldier declared, “But you don’t see me being whiney about it!”

“Well, you _should_ just go see the doc about those before you leave the base,” Francis suggested.

“Negatory!” the Soldier barked, “I do _not_ whine like a mamby pamby baby man!”

“Nobody said you were a mamby pamby baby man,” Francis rolled his eyes, “He’s concerned that you’re being targeted.”

“I’m _not_ being targeted!” the Soldier turned to Merasmus, as if it had been him who said what Francis said.

“I’m telling you! That man is targeting you! You two used to be pals. Maybe he’s taking it badly,” Merasmus explained hurriedly.

“Maybe I should look into it,” Francis suggested.

“You?” Merasmus gave him a perplexed look.

Francis nodded, “If I tag along, I can have a looksee at what’s going on.”

“I suppose that would be alright,” Merasmus said, pensively.

“No need to seem doubtful about it,” Francis pressed, “I was on the field today. Things went…alright. I can probably have a closer look and be the third pair of eyes in this situation.”

“I am not doubting your abilities,” Merasmus assured him, “I just hope _you_ of all people can talk some sense into him.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Francis nodded to him.

“Then it’s settled!” Soldier pushed past Merasmus and carried Francis to the den to set him on a chair. He set the remote beside him and left the room.

He figured that there was not much else that he could do. So, he turned on the television and sat back to relax. He wished he had a stomach and throat with which to drink beer. He could have gone for a nice cold brew.

 

He woke up to find himself curled up on the chair. The television was off and he felt like he slept on a rock. He rubbed his back, wishing he had something more cushioned to sleep on.

Somewhere in the house, he could hear the sounds of Soldier working out. The hell was he thinking? He glanced over at a wall clock to see the hands pointing at four and three. Four o’three in the morning.

“Err…seventy two…seventy three…seventy…seventy…” there was hesitation, but he did not think it had anything to do with the exercise he was counting.

Seeing as he had no bones to break, Francis hopped right down off of the chair. He made his way through the house following the hesitant sounds of the Soldier. He found the man in what appeared to be a workout room, trying to get in a morning workout.

Soldier stared at the floor, his arms fully extended, while his dog tags dangled towards the floor trying to touch it. Sweat was dripping down every part of his skin, as he was barren of most of his clothes. It did not really bother the Engineer none, considering this was the Soldier’s home and the man tended to walk around base in his boxers or less from time to time. It was nothing out of the usual for Soldier.

“Hey there,” he called out, waving.

Whatever Jane had been focused on had lost his concentration. He turned his head to look at the Engineer and smiled. He just sort of perked up from whatever mood he was in before.

“Hey Engie!” Soldier replied, excitedly.

“Whacha doin’ there?” he asked, not really needing the answer, but rather the context of the Soldier’s thoughts.

“Morning warm ups,” Soldier explained, as he shifted from his position into a sitting position, with his legs stretched out before him.

“You lose count every morning, sir?” he chuckled. He had not really thought much about how smart Soldier was, beyond not being fully literate.

“I do one hundred and twenty every morning,” Soldier explained, “One hundred and twenty percent towards my strength to support my team!”

“Good morning routine, I suppose,” he shrugged.

He paused to take in the rest of the room, studying the mechanisms that filled the space. There were barbells and ropes and contraptions of all sorts. If he did not know any better, he would have thought that Soldier was training to be a fighting champion of some sort. He had the whole set up to do it with.

“I just can’t focus,” Soldier hit his own head.

“Why? What’s wrong?” he frowned with concern.

“Well…I…I don’t really know,” the Soldier frowned at the floor between his feet.

“You don’t know? But Sol…what’s bothering ya?” the Engineer pressed, hoping that he might get a proper answer out of him.

“I ain’t really sure, Engie,” the Soldier shrugged, “I don’t know…I can’t think about it straight. So, I do my morning routine.”

“And now it’s getting in your way,” Engineer pondered this for a few moments, “Well, how long has something been bothering you for?”

“Since sometime last night,” Soldier shrugged.

“Oh…really?” he walked over to Soldier’s big knee, “Do you wanna talk about it, Sol? You always feel better when you talk things out.

“I’m not sure what to say about it,” Soldier shook his head.

“Well, when you’re ready and figure out what it is,” he patted the man’s leg, “You can always talk to me, partner.”

Soldier smiled at him. He picked him up with one hand and hugged him against his chest. It felt gross being pressed up against a sweaty warm body. Added that his fabric soaked up anything wet, it left him feeling gross.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soldier's a complicated man, I think.
> 
> For those wondering about this story's connection to the universe it is based in, this story itself will not be delving into the business or the overarching plot. There will be little hints in the background as to what is going on, however none of it will really tie up. This story is going to remain a cute fluffy type of story.


	5. Sketchy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Francis ends up hanging out with Scout.

A few hours later, Soldier brought the Engineer to the breakfast table. Merasmus looked a little grossed out, but he did not say anything. Perhaps he was giving Soldier some space, while they tried to figure out the boundaries they did not previously have. He was going to let this slide for the sake of keeping things civilized.

Soldier stuffed the last of his toast in his mouth and scooped up the Engineer, “Alright! I’m off!” He rose ceremoniously and started tromping to the door.

“Er…be careful!” Merasmus called after him, hesitantly.

Soldier chuckled, “Tell that to the sissy BLUs! They’ll need it!”

Soldier laughed his way to the base. There, the other mercenaries were already getting prepared for the day. Soldier set him on top of the lockers while he got himself ready.

He sat himself down and watched from his perch with curiosity. It seemed odd to see them all preparing, without getting ready himself. Because of course he wanted to, he wanted to get back into the fight.

He sighed at the thought and tried to push the feeling away. Of course he could not join them. He was just a little rag doll. Until he convinced Merasmus to get him into a real human body again, he would be useless to the team. Then again, he was not sure if Merasmus even believed he was anything more than a puppet being controlled by some form of energy that was without life in its own right.

“Hey Engie!” Scout hopped up onto a bench to be at the Engineer’s level on top of the lockers.

“Hey there, Scout,” he waved in greeting.

“Scout! Get down from there! Engie stays in the respawn room! You can gossip after the rounds!” Soldier roared like a militant instructor.

“Ah screw you pal!” Scout shook a finger at the Soldier.

“Don’t get wound up from Solly,” Francis chuckled.

“We’ve got a job to do!” the Soldier shouldered his rocket launcher and marched over to the gate to prepare for the fight.

Scout stuck his tongue out at the Soldier’s back. The next thing he knew, Francis was being tucked into the Scout’s pocket. He still had his torso out, but he did not really have much choice in what was going on.

He ended up riding there all day. Throughout the battle, Scout kept dying. It was a frightening experience, being flung around like that. Somehow, Scout managed to scoop him up and keep running whenever he respawned. He figured his concept of time had either changed, making everything seem much faster, or respawn had sped up immensely.

He spent the whole day in the pocket of the bouncy Scout. It was dizzying, but a refreshing change of pace. Given he had no bones, any time he was flung around did not harm him too bad. Sure it hurt, but the hurt did not last the way it would with a bruised and battered body made of organic flesh. It was different, and so it was mostly okay.

When the day ended, everybody seemed to forget he was even there, and he ended up riding in Scout’s pocket out of the respawn room. He looked up at the young man who was heading for the showers.

“Scout!” he called out. When the man did not seem to hear him, he tried again. “Hey Scout!”

Finally the Scout stopped in his tracks and looked around, “What?”

“Down here, boy!” he called out.

When Scout looked down at him, he looked absolutely surprised, “Oh! Engie…when’d you-”

“Boy, you’ve been picking me up and putting me in your pocket all day,” he cut him off.

“Oh…well…uh…sorry?” he turned on his heel and headed back to the respawn room. Only person that was left there was the RED Sniper. “Uh…hey Snipes?”

“Yea?” the Sniper turned to look at the Scout and he just seemed to squirm.

“Did you uh…see where Soldier went?” Scout asked.

“Headed back to his place,” the Sniper replied.

“Really? He didn’t say anything? Anything about Engie?” Scout’s hand brushed up against the ragdoll in his pocket.

“Nah,” Sniper shrugged.

“Oh…uh…nothing at all?” Scout pressed.

“No Scout,” the Sniper growled, “Nothing.”

Engineer frowned as he heard the Sniper’s response. That was never a good sign. Sniper was usual a low speaking fellow and usually only used his growling tone towards enemies. To be speaking that way towards a teammate meant he was irritated with him for something.

“Alright,” Scout hurried out of the respawn room and headed back towards the showers.

“Something about that didn’t seem right,” Francis spoke aloud.

“Listen Engie,” Scout interrupted his thoughts, “Eh…I dunno what you usually do with Soldier…but I kinda zone out and go on routine. Sorry if I end up forgetting about you again, I just kinda get in the zone and go with it until bed.”

“Well…ever try not doing routine?” Francis asked.

“It’s kind of set in me,” Scout shrugged, rubbing his arm as he entered the showers. He pulled the ragdoll Engineer out of his pocket and set him on the counter with the sinks. “I don’t really choose or anything. I just kind of do the same thing I normally do,” he shrugged.

“Well, why don’t you try something different?” Francis turned away as Scout started getting undressed.

The situation was only made awkward that there was a big mirror stretching across the wall. He never noticed how odd that was until now. He used to shave and wash his face in front of this big mirror, just like everybody else. Maybe seeing that Soldier and Merasmus were together was getting to him.

“You know, this might be a good change of scenery for me,” he said aloud.

“Why’s that? You only been around a few days, haven’t you?” Scout asked.

“I haven’t gotten to talk to anybody around the base,” he explained, “Not like back at Merasmus’ castle.

“Soo…what? You wanna gossip or something?” Scout turned on one of the showerheads to warm up the water.

“Nah, just talk. You know? I’ve been gone so long, everything’s changed,” he explained. He noted that the mirror had a lot more crud on it than he remembered too. “Though, I see the standards for cleaning mirrors hasn’t changed.”

“Hey!” Scout exclaimed, as he stepped under the water, “I cleaned that last!”

The raucous laughter of the Demoman and the Engineer came into the shower room. The two seemed to be in mid conversation and already stripping out of their shirts as they came inside. It was much too loud for Francis’ little voice to speak over.

“Then he says I’m bloody brilliant! Like it took some sort of science man to figure out he was being screwed over by the middle man!” Demoman laughed heartily.

The Engineer laughed with him, pausing to remove his goggles and helmet. There was a scar above his left eyebrow, but otherwise he looked a lot like Francis himself. He almost wondered if he was not looking at a mirror of the man he used to be.

The man did a double take and picked Francis up with one hand, “Well look at this! Ain’t that a cutie!”

Francis was about to speak when Scout’s voice beat against the walls, “Put him down, Engie!”

“Alright! Alright!” the man spoke defensively as he gently placed Francis back on the counter by a sink.

The Demoman snickered, “Lad’s grown weak in the head, if you asked me.”

“I know you’re talking about me!” Scout shouted.

“I know you know! That’s the point!” the Scotsman laughed as he stripped off the last of his clothing.

“Didn’t mean no harm by it, mister,” the Engineer said, following the Demoman as they started up two separate shower heads.

“Yea, whatever,” Scout growled with frustration.

“Honestly,” the Engineer protested, “No harm was meant by it!”

“Don’t worry about him, lad,” the Demoman pressed, “It’s probably that drink that’s got to his head.”

“You got a drinking problem yourself, Henrik,” the Engineer insisted.

Francis watched and listened from his perch. His voice was too quiet to overcome their booming voices. So, he became a watchful onlooker to what was going on.

“I drink a man’s drink!” the Demoman protested, “I got me alcohol. Liquor and beer is my friend!”

“That’s like saying soda is Scout’s friend,” the Engineer said pointedly.

“Exactly!” the Demoman exclaimed.

“Hey! Bonk is not soda!” the Scout protested, “It’s an energy drink!”

“Ohhh! So sorry, lad!” the Demoman said sarcastically, with a roll of his eyes.

“To be fair, that drink has more sugar than you know what to do with,” the Engineer argued, “You should really cut back on it.”

“Yea, whatever!” Scout replied angrily.

Scout turned off his water and started drying off. Francis turned to face the other direction. He was used to being one of the guys showering, not being on the sidelines watching others watch. There was something uniquely odd and unsettling about it. He decided that it was best if he just turned his back.

“If you’re going to be playing with Soldier’s doll, at least make sure to wash it properly,” Demoman laughed. The Engineer gave something of a laugh that was maybe a bit too late to be muffled.

“Now wait just a gosh darn minute!” Francis called to them.

Demoman did not seem to notice him at all, “You wouldn’t want it a mess for your little tea party.” The man burst into laughter, which seemed to be just a little contagious to the Engineer.

“Now where do you get off teasing Scout like that? That ain’t even teasing anymore!” Francis stood up and turned back to them. All backs except for Scouts’s were turned to him, but the younger mercenary was too busy glaring at the Demoman.

“If the boy didn’t want to be teased, he wouldn’t have made it so easy!” the Scot went on laughing.

“Er…it ain’t right to be judging like that,” the Engineer put a hand on Demo’s shoulder, calling his attention away from his laughter, “Come on. Boy’s got enough problems, and you don’t need to be one of them.”

Francis shook his head. That was no way to get Demo out of a mean streak. Judgment was not the problem, it was targeting a lone teammate. Francis would not have any of it on his team or any other team.

Demoman was already laughing at the Engineer. He patted the shorter man’s shoulder, his body shaking with laughter. He seemed completely unable to stop himself.

“Boy, you better knock that off before I knock your head in,” Francis took on his deepest Texan drawl.

The Demoman looked at the Engineer, blinking dumbfoundedly. The Engineer raised his hands and shook his head defensively. He had not said that and he knew he was innocent. Both of them turned their heads as Francis started walking across the counter to get a bit closer.

“The bloody doll’s talking!” the Demoman looked on in shock.

“I tried to tell you guys!” Scout blurted.

“I know you like to have fun,” Francis folded his arms over his chest, “But, there is fun and then there is being plain cruel. Don’t be giving anymore lip, or you’re getting the broad side of a wrench to your head.”

Demoman burst into laughter again. He had to lean on the Engineer, who continued staring with bewilderment. The laughing man pointed and slapped his leg.

Francis growled under his breath. What a frustrating predicament to be in. In any situation, in his normal body, he could have knocked some sense into the Demoman easily. In this tiny fabric body, he had none of the strength to do that.

“This little wee thing thinks it’s gonna win a fight?!” Demoman laughed, stumbling towards the counter to get a closer look.

“Maybe not in this form, no,” Francis admitted, as the man’s face got closer, “But I’ll be damned, your mother must be rolling in her grave right now.”

Demoman frowned at him for that, “You don’t talk about me ma like that!”

“I don’t mean your mother _any_ disrespect. God bless that woman’s soul. But, how dare you spit in her eye for bringing you up. What would she have to say about this? You think she’d walk in here and just laugh with you?” he growled, “Standing here, picking on your teammate!”

The Demoman’s frown became sad, “W-well…no…” There was a moment of hesitation as he thought about it. “She’d come in here and start wailing on every man not wearing a towel, is what she _would_ do. Then she’d knock me around for laughing.”

“She raised you right, Henrik,” Francis nodded, “Why don’t you do good by her memory now?”

“You’re right,” Henrik wiped a tear from his eye, “Thanks little ragdoll Engineer.” Demo turned, rubbing his eyes with an arm as he walked out of the showers.

“Uh…Demo!” the team’s new Engineer called after him, “You forgot your clothes!” The man hesitated, caught between staying decent and running after the man in a towel.

“Eh…he’ll figure it out,” Scout wrapped his towel around his waist and snatched up the ragdoll and his discarded clothes, “See ya later, Engineer.”

The moment they stepped out of the showers, Francis felt cold and damp. He realized that it was him, as his fabric had soaked in steam. Now he was damp and cold. He tried not to wriggle too much in Scout’s hand, but he did give a shiver.

“You alright, Engie?” Scout asked.

“Just cold,” he shuddered.

“My room should be warm now,” the youth assured him, “We’ll be there soon.”

“You got your own heater, son?” he asked.

“Just a little one,” Scout shrugged, “Nothing fancy, it just helps on extra cold nights.”

“Sounds good,” he sighed. He was not a picky man anyways, he just needed a bit of warmth to dry his fabric.

Scout opened the door to his room, revealing quite the mess. The walls were littered with promiscuous women, who were teasing with their eyes and pulling at the thin garments around their backsides. The younger man’s taste in bodacious dames was almost too prominent for Francis to handle. He would have rather watched Soldier and Merasmus make out for hours, than to look at all of these women being overly sexual.

He cleared his throat, “Anywhere in your room where there’s _not_ pornography, son?”

“Oh! Well…” Scout looked around the room, his face growing flush, “Sorry…I uh…just sorta got used to having these up.”

“It’s uh…nice…um…” Francis stammered as Scout set him on a nightstand, “I don’t mean to be rude or tell you how to decorate. It’s just that…not all fellas…quite like the promiscuity of a woman’s behind on his walls when he walks in a room.”

“Oh…” something like realization hit Scout, “Oh! Ohhh!” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“You get it, son?” he smiled, glad that he could get through to the younger mercenary.

“Yea…sorry…I didn’t know you were gay,” Scout replied.

“What?” he felt quite stumped at that sudden assumption about him. That was far from what he meant, and certainly far from the truth. “What the- what are you talking about?”

“I mean…I could hang my baseball posters over them, if you would prefer,” Scout offered.

“That ain’t why I- Scout!” he bellowed, a bit angrily.

“What is it?” Scout blinked at him, as if dumbfounded.

He held up his hands, “Listen to me carefully. It ain’t like that. I just ain’t comfortable seeing women running around in little bits. I didn’t grow up like you in the big city. I’m a country grown man, where women are modest and proper-like. You understand?”

The taste of his words was nasty. It felt like he was saying something rehearsed from his father from when he was a boy. It was something odd, unlike himself to say. That must just be what it’s like when parents rub off on you. They rub off on you and you stay like that for the rest of your life.

“Oh…s-sorry,” Scout chuckled awkwardly. His face grew bright red as he apologized.

“That’s alright,” Francis insisted, “Look. I ain’t even that bothered. You can leave them. I’ll just…not look at them. It’s a mite bit odd. But I’m a guest, and I won’t inconvenience you.”

“Th-thanks Engie. Sorry about all…that. I guess you’re true to your roots though, huh?” Scout chuckled.

“Not really,” Engineer shook his head, “Back home, you’d get a smackin’ or somebody’d probably tear down your paraphernalia for having guests without taking proper precautions about it.”

“Oh,” Scout blushed, “This um…this has been a…a weird talk.”

“Sorry, something of my father just sort of sprang a leak,” Francis stated, “You know how it is? Parents say things and it all just rubs off on ya?”

“Yea,” Scout said, scratching his arm.

 

Francis was mostly quiet through the evening. Scout was drawing pictures though. He had a big white sketchbook, on which he had scratch marks from blue and black pens over almost every page.

From the angle he was at, he could not see what Scout was doing. It started to get to him though. It was frustrating just to wonder what Scout was doing, while he himself had nothing to do at all.

“Whacha doing Scout?” he asked, trying to make conversation.

“Drawing,” Scout glanced at him briefly.

“What are you drawing though?” he asked, curiously.

Scout’s face turned a little pink. He pulled the sketchbook aside, tilting it away from him a bit, not that he could see anything from this angle. Even if he moved around where he had been placed, he would not have been able to get a good look at whatever Scout was doodling.

“Another sadistic picture of the BLU Spy?” he guessed.

It was a typical guess for what Scout might be doodling. It was one of those things where everybody knew. Scout liked to draw the BLU Spy in vulnerable or violent situations. Some teased him for it, some simply laughed about it behind his back. In the end, Francis felt rather bad about it, having spent a day with the BLU Spy, finding that he was a decent person.

“N-no,” Scout replied, hesitantly.

“Well?” Francis asked, “Am I supposed to ask?”

“It’s…uh…it’s just studies,” Scout explained, with a small shrug.

“Studies? What do you mean studies?” he asked curiously. He was so bored, he needed something to do or somebody to talk to. “Studies of what?”

He had never heard of any art major _studying_ anything, so he was not sure what he would be studying if he was drawing. It made him wonder what the youth was really up to. If the lad had any actual brains, maybe he hid that level of intellect amongst his peers.

“Um…well…it’s just anatomy studies,” Scout sounded like he was lying, “You know…” He started flipping backwards through the sketchbook, as if he was back tracking. “Just doing practice shapes of people and stuff,” Scout went on, his face turning slightly red.

“May I see?” Francis asked, curiously.

“Um…actually…” Scout closed the drawing book and set it aside, “I’m…uh…about to go to sleep now.”

“Oh…alright,” Francis replied, feeling a little disappointed.

“Sleep well,” Scout said as he got up to turn off the light. He was loud as he flopped back on the bed and pulled his blanket around himself.

 

Francis woke in the middle of the night wondering about that sketchbook. Whatever was in that darn thing would trouble him to no ends. He had to see what was in there, but he doubted Scout would ever show him. Even if he gained the boy’s trust, he might just be too secretive about it.

Besides, the curiosity was mixing with boredom and there was no way he was getting any sleep from now. He got up and stretched a bit, careful not to over extend the stitching. That was something that seemed like it should not be plausible though.

He went to the edge, glancing down at the floor. He was very high up. As he found before, he was durable, but that did not make the impact hurt any less. He would rather find a safer way down.

He looked around the dresser’s top, where he was perched. There was a slingshot, a bit of thread too short for practical use, a roll of tape Scout used to wrap his hands, which was just about to run out, and some untouched books. He looked over the edges of the dresser, analyzing this chances of getting off of this high object without taking damage or pain.

He settled his mind, and began to use the tape on the slingshot. The tape wrapped around then stuck out at the sides making spots where it could be taped down, in three parts of the handle. Once he was satisfied with that, he scooted the books close to the front edge of the dresser. He took the thread and tied it to his foot. He hooked the excess under the books, using the weight of the books to secure it into place.

He gave the string a solid tug with his foot, to check for sure. He was not sure of anything. His only certainty was that if he fell, he would not die. It was the same bravado he had had when he decided to replace his hand with a technological advancement.

He picked up the slingshot and slowly lowered himself over the side, head first. He pushed the slingshot’s handle against the drawer and quickly taped it, struggling with his flimsy hands. Having a robotic hand would have been useful at this time.

He was relieved when he managed to tape down the slingshot and it seemed more than secure. Wanting to be doubly certain, he climbed up to grab the rest of the tape. He leaned back over. He made these strips long, strapping the slingshot to the drawer, all the way to the corner. He did the same thing on either side, making its connection to the dresser a bit more secure, with a leverage on the tape.

He untied his foot, before he went to the slingshot. It was not a perfect angle, but it would have to do. The rest would have to rely on his body weight and effort. So, with a deep breath, he saddled his seat into the rubber, gently putting weight. When the test proved that the handle would not move and the tape was secure enough, he started pulling backwards.

He took a deep breath, careful with each step. He had to get the shot just right. He would have only one shot at getting there, and messing up even halfway through it would ruin everything. He did not feel like landing on the floor with all of his body feeling the pain. That would just be too much for him. No, he would get this shot right, land on the bed and see what was in that sketchbook to satisfy his curiosity.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He closed his eyes as he counted his steps. He moved carefully with each step, not wanting to set anything off. All the while, he prayed that while the slingshot might give to weight, it would not break entirely.

He shifted his weight in the slingshot. He opened his eyes and looked at his target. All of his weight was pushing it back and it was time to go. All he needed to do was to bounce upwards, just a little bit, so that it would release the tension and angle the slingshot to send him to the mattress, rather than to the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does he make it?  
> Stay tuned!


	6. The Sketches of a Mercenary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Francis makes the jump! And he comes to find that the sketches are nothing he would have expected or guessed.  
> The intrusion of privacy has sleepy Scout very mad and Francis has a run in with a cat and a Pyro, which somehow brings him to Sniper.

With a little jump, the Engineer went flying across the room. He felt like he was actually flying for a few moments. It was a neat feeling that he never thought of experiencing outside of being launched into the sky by the enemy Pyro.

He closed his eyes as his body approached the bed. Relief hit his entire body as he flopped against the bed like a true ragdoll. He took a deep calming breath as the momentum slowed to a stop.

He sat up and shook himself. He made it. The slingshot did the trick and got him to the bed. He took a moment to relish in the satisfaction of his accomplishment, before he stood up and looked around.

He trotted over Scout’s thigh and skidded across the blanket to his back. He landed on the sheets where the sketchbook had been left. Of course the boy foolishly left the sketchbook and the pencil on his bed where he could crush his pencil and break it, ruin his sheets, or wrinkle the papers.

He was careful as he turned the black cover, watching Scout. He dared not wake the boy in any way. He was not sure how he would react to the Engineer sneaking onto the bed to look at his apparently secretive stash of sketches.

He looked at the first page and was pleasantly surprised. Studies of eyes, some glistening and some staring intently. Some were widened, expressing shock or fear. Some were narrowed or had eyelids lowered to express irritation or frustration. The array of eyes were beautiful, but they did not look much different from each other, aside from expressions.

It was so nice to see that Scout had talent. It was not as if the Engineer would have doubted him, but Scout never expressed his talents in any way other than athleticism. Maybe he had been shown only that his athletic skills were good and nobody told him how amazing it was that he could express the human eye with graphite on paper.

He carefully turned the page to find more studies. There were arms, some bent and some relaxed. Hands were flexed or relaxed too. The studies went from obvious circles to project shapes before drawing detail, to no circles or hard to see circles.

He would have let out a low whistle if he were not afraid of waking the Scout. He could see that the boy had a real talent. Eyes and arms too? The kid had a knack for studying the human anatomy. If Francis were to build a bot, he would hire Scout to help him figure out the humanistic dimensions on paper for a bipedal one.

He turned the page again to find legs. The musculature became more obvious in these. They went from studies with muscles in the arms and legs to studies of the curvature and the hair.

Then the parts became connected. The curvature of the hips and torsos went from flat to corrected. He maintained a fairly straight form though, keeping the torso and hips looking rather slim. It seemed rather dull and tasteless, given how creative Scout could be with the muscle build and dimensions.

By the tenth page, there were studies of facial features. There were no connections, just random bits and pieces scattered around. A nose here. A leg there. A hand in the corner. An eye glaring from the middle. Then a pair of eyes looking wide and terrified.

It was page after page of this, until he came to about the thirtieth page. That was when a full figure appeared upon the white space. It was not a lone figure as if it were one drawing. Rather it was multiple drawings, with multiple stances of the same person: Sniper.

“Huh,” he huffed, before putting a hand over his mouth. He looked up at Scout, relieved to find that he went unheard.

He turned the page to find more figures. There were a few drawings of Spy, a few of Demoman, a couple of the enemy Scout getting killed, quite a few of the Engineer, mostly lounging about, and even quite a few of the Soldier, with some mockery of his all-American attitude. What struck him was that after the Sniper’s page, all of these lost a sense of detail. Some of them seemed hurried and rushed. Maybe Scout did not have as much time to study the other mercenaries like he could Sniper. Sniper sat relatively still in his nest when it came to battle.

After nearly a dozen pages more, he came upon another page of Sniper. He blushed as he looked on, seeing not a man at work but a man removing his shirt, his bare slim back with the few muscles showing. The detailed stubble on his chin. The expressions of taking a shower and being completely nude.

He shook himself at the thought. They were studies. Of course he would study somebody who would hold still long enough. Of course he would take the time to study the man bare of clothing. That was how one studied anatomy, or at least he figured as much. He was not an artist himself to judge that.

It was the poses after that that made this innocuous set of drawings of the Sniper too lewd. Poses with lowered eyelids and come hither looks just put the Engineer aback. He looked on at the way the straight anatomy turned into a curvy thing, as he mimicked poses of the women Scout had hanging around his room.

Sniper would never pose in such a way. Francis knew that. Or at least, he was certain of that. Sniper was the kind of guy who kept a straight face when nobody else could. He could not be bothered as others were about throwing piss jars at people. In the same way, if one were to ask him to do something outside of his desired spectrum of activities he would not be bothered to say no or tell the person to fuck off.

He rubbed his face, “Oh boy.”

A sudden groan startled him. He had no time to react as Scout turned over. His eyes opened to slits at first, then he blinked and opened his eyes wide. He stared at Francis with confusion and almost disbelief.

“Engie?” he glanced between Francis and the sketchbook.

Francis wondered if his felt turned red when he felt warm, because his face was burning. He let the last page go as he turned to face Scout and take on the consequences. He really wanted to just run out of there though.

“Engie, what the hell?!” the Scout sat up, staring at him and the sketchbook as if it were a foreign thing.

“I’m sorry,” he rubbed the back of his head, “I uh…I got a little curious. I wanted to see what you were drawing.”

“You went through my sketchbook!” Scout shouted, with disbelief.

“I uh…I didn’t mean any harm,” he insisted, nervously.

“Engie! That’s personal!” his eyes widened a bit and he snatched up the sketchbook, accidentally hitting the doll on the back of his head in the process.

“I didn’t know it was _that_ personal! But you really…have a lot of talent!” Francis tried to redirect the thought process.

“Engie, that was private! You don’t just go through somebody else’s stuff like that!” Scout exclaimed with frustration.

“I’m sorry! I just-” he did not get out another word as Scout picked him up by his back. Scout clambered out of bed and carried him to the door. Unsure of what was going to happen, he closed his eyes and curled up, until he suddenly landed on the floor.

“If you’re going to go through my things, then you can stay out here!” Scout slammed the door shut.

Francis felt rather stumped. He was not expecting things to go like this. Sure, he thought Scout would get mad, but he did not think the younger man would abandon him outside in the cold hallway.

It was very cold and rather damp. He had forgotten how dreary and drafty the base was. It was foreboding from the added size. He was just a little doll in this building built for big men.

When he was alive, he was not the tallest man. For a while, when they had first met, Scout had made it a point to tease him for his height. A good whack to the jaw had shut the boy up, and the rest was history.

As he wandered down the hallway, headed towards the stairs, he could not help but feel like he was in a different place. It was not the same seeing it from the floor as it had been seeing it from somebody’s shoulder or grasp. The change of perspective was terrifying.

He was not sure what he expected to happen, but he was not ready to face the consequences. He certainly was not ready for a cat to meander onto the base. It was a big fluffy orange cat, moving like a snake as it strutted along the hall. At first he hoped it would not bother him, maybe being a rag doll meant he would mean nothing to the oversized cat.

Its eyes were caught by his movements and it shifted everything from a casual strut to a hunting prowl. Its entire body lowered, even its fluffy tail. Its eyes were fixated on him, watching and waiting for the right moment to pounce.

He swallowed hard as he moved along the wall. He hoped he could just skirt by without being too attractive to it. Maybe it would get bored and leave him alone.

The cat sprung into the air and he fled. He yowled as he heard the whishing of the paw moving through the air near his head. It came very close to him and probably had its claws out. That was probably the most terrifying part was the claws, and they could tear him to shreds.

Of all the things that he had been through, he had mostly been able to handle them. Falling was okay but painful. Getting mashed under a man’s body was fine but soul crushing. When it came to fire and sharp objects though, those could destroy felt and would be the end of him if he did not escape.

He ran as fast as he could. He felt his eyes sting with the need for tears as the fear welled up from his chest. His terror became known as he screamed. He could hear the cat running after him. Given its longer legs and more agile body, it would be upon him at any moment.

He had just thought about dodging to the side when the paws came upon his back. He yelled in surprise, falling face first against the ground. Paws dug into his back and a wet nose sniffed at the back of his head. A loud purring came from the animal as it started batting at him, testing to see his reaction. He would not react though, opting to play dead in case it might cause the cat to lose interest in him.

It did not easily lose interest though. It moved off of his back, but it then resumed its batting. Its claws stuck into the felt, jabbing into him painfully. He could not help but scream in pain as tears filled his eyes. The noise was all it took to get the cat’s interest and it bit down on what would be his neck. Terrified, he hoped it would not try to tear out the stitching.

A door slammed open, a muffled voice came from overhead and the cat ran. Pain filled screams left what would have been his throat. His eyes burned from tears as his body flopped around. The front legs banged against him, and he tried kicking to see if he could cause the cat’s gait to falter.

The cat yowled as it was grabbed. The doll flopped to the ground, released from its jaws. It did try to get him back, but it was pulled out of reach. More muffled noises came from overhead and a rubber hand wrapped around his body. He tensed up, looking at the black and brown glove with confusion. It was Pyro’s glove, which meant that Pyro had just saved him from the cat.

He was turned over to look up at the Pyro. He was not sure what they were saying, as their voice was muffled behind the mask. They just sort of turned and headed back through the base. Halfway to their door, they stopped to snatch something off of the floor. They raised it to look at it, revealing that it was an arm.

He turned his head, looking at his shoulder where the arm should be. Off-white stuffing was popping out, revealing the damage his stitches had taken. He looked at his other shoulder to find that the other arm was falling apart as well.

The Pyro’s words went over his head as they brought him into their room. He was not sure what he was expecting, but it certainly was not this. Walls covered in glitter and paint revealed a display of pink brightness that was too much for the senses. Some attempt at a rainbow was painted across one wall. The other wall contained shelves of stuffed animals, mostly bears and the like.

He was not sure what to make of it all. It was certainly more girlish than he had been expecting. Then again, Pyro did have a pink purse they toted around. They did not seem to mind that others saw them with this purse. Then again, nobody really bothered Pyro ever.

“You have…quite the collection,” he noted nervously.

The Pyro made a sound that seemed like, “Mmhm.”

They gently set him on a shelf, before taking out a box. It was not quite a shoe box, but it was right about that size. They pulled out a small velveteen bear that was adorned with sleepwear. The Pyro was meticulous as they pulled off the bear’s purple striped shirt and pants. They took out a pair of scissors and cut the stitching to the bear’s cap, leaving the thing looking empty of the life it had had with those clothes.

Pyro set the bear up on one of the shelves, before turning to Francis. He was scared of what they might try to do, and was surprised to find that they were putting the clothes on him. He could not do much, with one arm missing and the other falling off. The shirt gently held the loose arm in place, but the other arm could not be helped, so it was left there for the time being.

Pyro placed the sleeping cap on top of his head, before gently lifting him off of the shelf. He looked around, unsure of what to make of what was happening. He could only imagine that Pyro was playing with him. He was a ragdoll after all. In the mysterious mind of Pyro, he might as well be the same as all of the living dolls that might be in their insane brain.

They lowered him into the box though. In the bottom was a crafted bed, with hand stitched blankets sewn into the box. A comfortable set of pillows was also sewn down so they could not be moved. At least the comforters were made so that they could loosely fit around the middle. The bear being a little wider around the middle than he was made the comforter easier to maneuver in.

He figured he might as well get comfortable, if he was going to be spending the night in this box. The Pyro said something that sounded close to, “Good night.” The masked face disappeared, leaving him to his bed in the box. After a few minutes, the light turned off, leaving him in the dim darkness, where glow in the dark spots dotted the ceiling like a starry night sky.

 

He was roused by shuffling. When he opened his eyes, the Pyro’s mask appeared over the box. He did not have a chance to get his bearings, or even try to remember where he was, before the Pyro was lifting him out of the little bed. They removed the nightwear, picked up the arm that had been placed on a shelf, and tucked him into a pocket on their belt. They gave him a little pat before heading out of the room.

The hallway was already full of noise. The familiar call of Scout’s voice echoed down the mostly barren walls. He even ran past the Pyro, not noticing the pocket swinging at his waist carrying the little ragdoll.

“Engie!” the Scout called, “Engie! Come back! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it! Come out!”

Francis felt a little bad that he could not give Scout assurance that he was fine. At the same time, he did not feel _that_ bad. After all, it was the Pyro who quickly ducked down another hall, carrying him away from where the Scout was searching. Not to mention the fact that the Scout had left him outside, defenseless against the cat and too small to help himself.

The Pyro headed right outside of the base. He blinked at the bright sunlight that was rising, feeling very sleepy. In the distance, down the old dirt road, he could see the distant figure of the Soldier marching back from Merasmus’ castle. He wondered if he had forgotten Francis altogether, or if he was even worried about him.

The Pyro went the other direction, headed out past the Engineer’s workshop. The familiar smell of smoke reminded him of the smithy. Tears wanted to well up at the familiarity of metal working. He wanted to get back to his craft, to do the work he used to do. He wanted to build machines again, and to work with metal with his human hands.

Pyro knocked on a door. That was when he brought his attention back around to whatever Pyro was doing. He was stumped to see that he was knocking on the Sniper’s camper trailer. They waited patiently, watching and listening as the whole vehicle shifted under the weight of a man moving around inside.

The door opened and the long-faced man hung out of the opening. He had a grouchy look on his face, frowning at the Pyro indignantly. He was not properly dressed either, with basic boxer shorts under a white tank top that revealed the lines of his tan. Francis hade known the man was lanky but he never really took notice of the fact that he had muscle. Sure he could pull his own weight when it came to work, but when it came to battle, he mostly just carried the equipment he used.

“What’s it, Pyro?” Sniper blinked sleepily at the masked person before him.

Pyro reached into the pocket and pulled Francis out with one hand. The other hand held out the torn off arm, holding him up where the Sniper could see. They started talking, speaking through the muffling of his mask.

Francis could not help but feel very awkward. Sniper had shown signs of disbelief before, when it came to the Soldier and Scout believing that he was truly the real Francis. Not to mention the friendship they used to have before all of this happened. He used to be good pals with the Sniper before, coming to him now like this, after so much time had passed, felt so weird and out of place.

“Another broken toy?” the Sniper took the arm with one spindly fingered hand.

The Pyro replied with a bunch of muffled words. There was a tone of emphasis behind it all though. At least it seemed like they were pleading for help.

This felt rather surreal now, especially as the Sniper took Francis’ body into his hand. One hand held the arm and the other took him like he was a gentle and fragile thing. He felt so strange going from the cold rubber clove to a hand that was a mix of warm and cold. There was a steely calm look in his eyes, as he looked over the damage on the ragdoll shoulders.

“Please?” the Pyro seemed to beg.

“Alright mate,” the Sniper conceded, “Leave him with me and I’ll see if I can have it fixed by the morning.”

The Pyro bounced up and down, clapping their hands. Oh what relief that Francis would get repaired. It was also relieving that the Pyro had no intention of taking him to battle. At least not for that day. He did not actually think the Pyro meant harm, but in his current situation, he was very susceptible to damage by flames, which was a tool that the Pyro did tend to use.

The Sniper turned and stepped back inside. He let the door swing shut behind him, before bringing Francis to a bookshelf over his dining table. He set the ragdoll there, with his arm beside him. Then, he turned to the sink counter to pick up his coffee and apparently resume sipping on the hot brew.

“So…are you going to fix me?” he asked, hesitantly.

Sniper almost spat up his coffee. He coughed a bit, looking over at him. He was suddenly very aware that the ragdoll had spoken. His eyes had lost their calm leaving a look of confusion on his face.

“I uh…” he hesitated, unsure of how to make this whole reveal less awkward, “I didn’t put Pyro up to this or anything. They just kinda acted on their own accord. I um…dunno how to make this any less weird.” He tried to raise an arm to rub his neck, but the arm still attached would not even respond.

The Sniper hummed and set his coffee down. He wiped his mouth on his arm, before picking up the torn off arm. He studied it curiously.

“Erm…is that all?” Francis asked hesitantly.

The Sniper gave him a curious look. Those sharp eyes were dangerous. The gaze of a hunter gazed back at him and it left an unpleasant little knot in his gut.

“Is that all?” the question had a warning tone in it. It was threatening and sent fear through Francis’ little body.

He swallowed, trying his best to keep his wits about him, “I uh…I’m just. I am not really sure what to say…guess it’s been so long. Trying to make…small talk…isn’t the same as it used to be.”

The Sniper lowered his brows, frowning at the Engineer. He seemed like he might be growing angry. It made him want to cringe in fear.

“Merasmus really outdid himself with you,” the Sniper commented, in a low growl.

Francis flinched, then frowned. So, the Sniper thought he was just a regular ragdoll cursed with life. He tried to steel himself against any arguments. He wanted to be on good terms with the Sniper. He had already pissed off the Scout, the Pyro was keeping him as a stuffed toy and Soldier was doing God knew what. He was on his own and his only defense would be a calm exterior.

“D-do…do you usually repair toys for the Pyro?” he asked hesitantly.

The Sniper paused, picking up Francis. He sat down at the dining table, setting the ragdoll and his arm down. His eyes were studiously taking in the torn stitching on the right shoulder.

“Not like you can do anything with the information anyways. Of course, you would figure it out on your own. No point in hiding it,” he went on.

He rose from the table, heading to a cupboard. He brought down a small box, out of which he pulled sewing materials. He set a felt ball of pins on the table, along with a small box of needles and a spool of whitish thread. He started taking pins from the pin cushion, carefully aligning the somewhat torn arm. He poked a pin into that arm to keep it in place.

He could not help his reaction. It was a painful situation. He let out a cry of pain and winced in an obvious manner. He tried his best to hold still, but the whole experience repeated again as he pinned the disconnected arm to his shoulder.

“Gee, you really feel pain, don’t you?” the Sniper asked.

He looked up at the man, bleary eyed and sniffling. He was left with a dissonant feeling, as memories mirrored a much different man. It was the same face, but he was never this distant, this cold, this apathetic. He could remember so many times when he reached out for the Sniper’s help, welcomed by the smile, and on rare occasions a hug that meant to pull him out of harm’s way. He could not imagine himself reaching up to this man, to look to him for help.

“Merasmus really outdid himself this time,” the Sniper commented. He stuck a couple pins between his teeth and started threading the needle.

“Merasmus made my body,” Francis admitted, “But he didn’t make me. He didn’t intend for me to feel pain. I just do that…because I remember how it feels to hurt.”

“Sure,” the man sounded disbelieving. He was quiet as he stuck the needle into Francis’ shoulder.

They were both quiet. Francis struggled through it, as the man sewed him back together. He put both arms on and then gently began cleaning him. He remained absolutely dry, but the Sniper cleaned him off.

When the Sniper set him down he felt refreshed and new. He felt like a whole new doll. Not like a new man though no. This experience had been unlike the other ones. He was not sure what it was, but being talked to like this by the Sniper and being treated like this by this man made him feel rather broken down and inhuman.

He was picked up and set back up on the bookshelf. The Sniper paused to admire his work, before he started cooking himself breakfast. He was still quiet, never saying a word.

“Sniper, do you think we could talk?” he asked. He was still very sore, which made talking feel like a chore.

“Depends,” the man did not look up from the eggs he was poaching, “What you wanna talk about?”

“A lot,” Francis admittedly wanted to talk to Sniper more than anyone, but after that dry bath and the painful repair, he could not bring himself to open up about himself. He could not tell him the things he wanted to, not like the way they used to talk. He decided to not make this about himself, “I wanna talk about Scout.”

“What about him?” Sniper asked, passively.

“Well, what do you think about him?” might as well start somewhere. Getting a basis of what Francis had to work with would be a good start. Though, now that he thought about it, perhaps asking the man his sort of preferences would have been a better start.

He would remember that later. This was his first time trying to help out a friend like this anyways. And to do so between men? That was strange enough as it was.

“A boy with a big mouth. A lot of talk. Needs to calm the hell down,” the Sniper replied, settling down to eat his finished breakfast.

That did not sound promising. Not like girls had not described worse of their future loved ones though. He could only do his best to work around that.

“I mean really…” he pressed, hoping to get a little deeper, “You don’t think about Scout in any kind of way.”

“Not really,” the Sniper opened a newspaper as he drank some coffee, “Little bugger escapes my mind until you brought him up.”

“Well…what do you think of men then?” he pressed, hoping to find some little detail of the Sniper’s private feelings.

The man twisted his neck around to look up at him. He had one eyebrow pushed so far down and squinted up at him. It was the most perplexed look he had ever received from the man.

“What?” was the Sniper’s response.

“What…what do you think of men?” Francis shrugged, hoping not to be too specific that it tipped him off as to what he meant, “You know, in general.”

“What do I think of men?” Sniper kept that perplexed expression.

“Yea,” Francis nodded. He felt like there should be a film of sweat on his entire body.

“What do I think of men,” Sniper looked back down at the newspaper in his hand, “Bloody ragdoll giving me riddles. Like I need some piker putting my mind amiss with riddling.”

“I’m serious!” he called to the Sniper in desperation.

“Could you keep it quiet?” the Sniper gestured in a hush, “I’d like to relax and read in quiet before the match begins for today. Be thankful you’ll get the quiet for the entirety of the day. Nobody’ll come and bother you here. Not while the match is going on.”

“Sniper, you said we could talk,” Francis protested.

“I’m sorry, I’m not interested,” the Sniper gestured dismissively.

He had to think of something fast. Of course, his mind strangely went back to those sketches that Scout had made of the Sniper. His sharp eyes staring through the scope of his rifle. The sharp poses he struck during his work. Those would be the same kinds of poses he would be working in today.

“I really wanted to talk about Scout,” he said, in a last ditch effort to bring the topic back to the youth.

“Not interested mate,” the Sniper paused to drink his coffee, “The piker’s been a rude little shit to me for the longest time. I don’t have time for being his friend or anything. Tell him I’m not interested in friends. Then again, you’re probably not going to.” He licked his finger to turn the page of his newspaper.

“What? Why not?” Francis leaned over the edge to look down at him.

“Cause Pyro’s picking you up,” the Sniper replied.

“You can’t let Pyro take me,” he pleaded.

“Pyro brought you in, Pyro’s taking you out,” the Sniper replied, in a matter-of-fact tone.

“You can tell them no!” he pleaded, “They know better than to do this! I was supposed to go with Soldier!”

“He’ll probably go knocking down everybody’s doors looking for you. You just won’t be _my_ problem to deal with,” Sniper replied.

Francis huffed and sat back in his seat. So much for that conversation. It was the most forgettable conversation he had ever had with the Sniper. It was like it was not even the same person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Francis may have overlooked a very huge detail anyways.  
> I love ragdoll Engie.  
> Please don't hate on Sniper too hard.


	7. BLU Spy’s Idea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While sitting in the camper, Francis gets a visit. His visitor has an idea to help him with his conundrum regarding Scout.

As Sniper had mentioned, the camper was indeed quiet when he left for the day’s rounds. He was not willing to just sit around and wait for his fate though. Sure, Pyro was probably just going to be sweet and take care of him, but that’s not really what he wanted.

He was trying to climb down off of the shelf, when the door opened. He froze, watching in terror as the BLU Spy appeared. He was looking around the living quarters with a mischievous look that made him wish he had a wrench to knock sense into him with.

“What are you doing snooping around in here?” Francis demanded.

Startled, the Spy looked around in fear. He did a double take when he spotted the little ragdoll. His smile got so wide it nearly split his face.

“Engineer! Good to see you! I didn’t know you were hiding out in here! Safer than the battlefield, I suppose,” the Spy said, cheerfully.

Still trying to adjust to the man’s friendly attitude towards him, Francis took a minute. He finished his climb down, using the string he found lying around. Once he was on his feet, he looked up at him.

“Don’t be thinking you can take me on another joy ride in your pocket,” he warned.

“Relax, mon ami! I am only here to snoop about! Besides, last time was to keep you off the ground and out of the line of fire,” the Spy insisted.

“As I recall it, you did the opposite,” Francis said, a bit scornfully, “In fact, I nearly got burned. Considering I’m made of cotton, that’s a very bad thing for me. And I got caught by the Pyro too.”

“I thought you were best friends with the RED Pyro,” the Spy gave him a curious look.

“Not necessarily,” Francis argued.

“They seem to think you two were always very dear friends,” the Spy offered.

“What makes you say that anyways?” Francis sat down on the table. No point in standing around on the table anyways.

“I’m a Spy,” the BLU giggled, “I’m supposed to be perceptive. I’ve watched your team as closely as my own.”

“Well, not close enough son,” the Engineer huffed a sigh, “I thought I was good friends with the Sniper.”

“I suppose you would be good friends with him if you’re here in his camper,” the Spy nodded, taking a seat at the booth aligned with the table.

“Not from what it seems to be,” Francis turned his body to face the Spy. It was strange to think that the man was so much bigger than him now, yet less a threat than he ever was before.

The Spy leaned his cheek on his palm, and his elbow on the table, “What makes you say that? You two seemed to get along fine from what I could see.”

“Sure, what you could see,” he shrugged, “After hours…we used to talk a lot. He seemed like the one person who would take the time to actually listen to me. Given now, the things he’s said to me…I don’t think it was ever real.”

The BLU Spy’s brow furrowed with concern, “It wasn’t? How come? What did he say to you?”

Francis sighed and looked at his hands looped around his knees. He felt so unreal now. Maybe what the Sniper had said was true. Maybe he really was just a figment of what Merasmus had made. That made a very large and painful lump form in his throat.

“Thinks I’m just a ragdoll,” he forced it out of his throat. It was like tearing off an adhesive bandage. “I’m not really Francis. I just move and act like him. I talk and walk like him. But I’m just a doll.”

“You’re not though,” a big finger suddenly appeared, trying to push his face up. He did not really have a chin, so it just kinda pushed up on his neck to force his head upwards. “I think others have probably mourned you already,” the BLU Spy explained, “The loss…pretty much hurt everyone. When I heard the news, I was hurt. I never wanted to see you go like that. Maybe he just…can’t get over that he mourned you and now you’re back.”

“But we have respawn,” he argued, “We have technology that does amazing things. Why would it be a big thing for somebody to be brought back.”

The Spy shrugged, “I don’t know. All I know is that I believe you’re real. And I’m glad to have you back.”

Francis smiled back up at him, “You know, I think you’re the only person I’ve been able to have a decent conversation with. Sad considering…” He sighed and shook his head, looking back down at his knees.

“Anytime you need to talk,” the Spy offered with a small smile, “I’ll be right here for you.”

Francis paused, looking up at the Spy curiously. They were never friends before. Why would the Spy be this way? Ironic considering that some ‘friends’ were no longer acting like friends.

“Actually, there _is_ something I need to talk about,” he said.

“Alright,” the Spy settled back into the seat, “Let’s talk. I have nothing better to do.”

He hesitated, unsure if he should even say anything. If he revealed the Scout’s secret, he was just burying himself further. He had not even had a chance to talk to Scout about the whole thing.

“Can you keep a secret?” he asked, nervously.

“Yes of course! I’m full of secrets!” the Spy laughed, “Not a one will pass my lips!”

“Well,” Francis took a deep breath, “This is about Scout.”

“Scout? The RED Scout? Or the BLU Scout?” the Spy asked.

He rolled his eyes, “The RED Scout, of course.”

“I see, what about him?” the Spy pressed, curiously.

“Well…um…” he hesitated, not sure he should be trusting the Spy. He had already violated Scout’s privacy once before.

“Well?” the Spy pressed.

“I’m not sure that I should say,” Francis admitted.

“Oh come now, Engineer! You can trust me!” the BLU Spy pressed, eagerly.

Francis sighed, mostly at himself for being a fool, “Well…I spent part of last night with Scout. He was talking about…homosexual things…”

“Oh!” the Spy looked surprised.

“Not in a bad way either,” Francis said defensively, “He just seemed…to make quick assumptions of me for not liking the posters on his walls.”

“Having seen his room myself, I know what you mean.” The Spy looked a little disgusted. That made Francis glad that he had somebody who understood how uncomfortable that was. “But what does this have to do with anything?”

“Well, Scout was drawing some things,” he explained.

“And? Scout draws all the time,” the Spy rolled his eyes, “He’d be a comic artist if he had put the focus into his work.”

“I couldn’t agree more with that,” Francis nodded, “But it seems like…his work…in his sketchbook…it focuses on…figures.”

“Well sure, most great artists focus on figures,” the Spy nodded, “He’s trying to get better at his craft.”

“Yea but…” he paused with a grimace. He thought about the sketches he had seen, realizing that he felt really dirty thinking about them. He wanted another dry bath, he felt so disgusting. “The pictures took a uh…inspiration from the posters the boy hangs on his walls.”

“Oh…so he was drawing nudes,” the Spy said with surprise.

“Of mercenaries,” Francis finished.

“Of what?” the Spy’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Well…most notably of Sniper,” his face was so hot with embarrassment.

The BLU Spy whistled and slumped back against the back of the booth. He stared up at nothing, contemplating this information. Francis only hoped he was not filing it away as something to use against the Scout later. Or maybe worse, use it against the Sniper.

“Does the Sniper know?” the Spy finally turned his gaze down to Francis again.

He shook his head, “No, he doesn’t. I wanted to tell him, but I don’t know how. He won’t listen to me.”

“That’s odd…I thought you two were good friends,” the Spy frowned.

“I thought we were,” Francis sighed.

There were a few moments of silence between them. The Spy rubbed his mask covered chin, thoughtfully. Francis was afraid that he might be concocting some idea that could be counter to what Francis wanted to do.

“It seems like the Scouts both have something in common,” the Spy stated.

“You mean besides baseball and giant egos?” Francis chuckled.

“They both like their respective Snipers and the Snipers don’t know about it,” the Spy stated, in a very serious tone.

If not for the tone, Francis probably would not have taken him seriously. He did a double taken, staring up at him blankly. Both Scouts liked the Snipers?

“How do you know that?” he thought aloud.

“I’ve snooped around my teammates’ valuables,” he shrugged.

“Well, that’s not very polite,” Francis noted, curtly.

“Neither was snooping into the RED Scout’s private sketches,” the BLU Spy snickered, “I imagine he _didn’t_ give you permission to look at those?”

“How would you know they were private?” Francis replied.

“Well, if he’s sketching nudes, they’re privy to privacy. Add how many mercenaries might lynch him for drawing a man in a lewd manner, it seems pretty private,” the Spy offered.

Francis tightened his lips. No wonder nobody had come to him about any of this kind of stuff. No wonder Scout put on a front, if it was a front. The boy’s liking for men must have been something he had had to keep under wraps from everybody he knew. Given he never really knew what to say about gays in the past, Francis was not sure he had ever expressed himself as being particularly easy to come to about that.

Still, he had always been open to lend an ear and had never before told of anybody else’s secrets. The fact that he was talking to the BLU Spy about it now did not count. It was simply a point of getting something done.

“I need you to help me,” Francis said.

“Help you with what?” the BLU Spy asked, with an eager gleam in his eyes.

“I’m going to do that boy a favor and help him get the Sniper,” he informed the Spy.

“Well…I don’t know about you, but that seems a little hard,” the Spy said hesitantly.

“What do you mean?” the Engineer scrunched his brow.

“Well, the Sniper doesn’t really like him,” the Spy shrugged, “I don’t know too much about the Sniper, but I know he doesn’t like the Scouts and I know he doesn’t like me.”

“Then why are you snooping around in his camper?” Francis scoffed.

“Why do you think he hates me?” the BLU Spy giggled almost gleefully.

Francis was feeling a knot in his gut. He regretted asking the Spy for help. There were not many who could help him in this situation, so this would just have to do.

“What if we just give him a date,” Francis suggested, “Just one chance for Scout to feel good about himself.”

“Why does he need a date to feel good about himself?” the Spy seemed concerned at that opinion.

“I don’t think he likes himself,” Francis explained, “There are those lady posters I told you about. And then the whole thing about being gay that he rambled about. And then the sketches…”

“I see where you’re coming from, but I don’t think a date with the Sniper is a good idea,” the Spy explained.

“What if it were you?” Francis suggested, “If you were trapped thinking you weren’t good enough. You can’t even ask a fella out, because you’re a fella yourself. It ain’t asking much, maybe just a chance for the boy?”

“Since when did you get so pro homosexual relations?” the Spy asked, with an impressed raise of his brows.

Francis shrugged, “I suppose I wouldn’t have been before all of this.”

“The Francis I knew probably would have been disgusted and not wanted to talk about it,” the Spy added.

“Yea, well…things change, don’t they? Besides, after seeing Soldier and Merasmus being happy together…it kind of changed my perspective. Merasmus means a lot to Soldier. I can’t imagine how the boy feels if he feels even a smidge of that about Sniper,” Francis explained.

“Wait wait,” the Spy raised his hands to stop him, “Soldier? You’re talking about the Soldier? As in the RED Soldier? Are you serious? Him? The RED Soldier?”

Francis nodded quietly. He watched as the BLU Spy processed this ever so slowly. He seemed so stumped and confused, then realization hit him, then he was struck dumbfounded again.

“Soldier and Merasmus are roommates,” the Spy stared at nothing.

Francis nodded, “Yea.”

“Holy…they’re in a relationship? As in…they’re intimate?!” the Spy had such disbelief written on his face that it made Francis chuckle, “How? How is that even possible?! The RED Soldier?”

“It’s true,” Francis nodded with a grin. He could not help but feel a little satisfied at knowing things the BLU Spy did not.

“Oh my…this explains so much!” the BLU Spy blinked at Francis, as if processing a revelation.

“Oh really? How’s that?” Francis tilted his head in curiosity.

“Why Merasmus sticks around. How Soldier continues to be his roommate. Why he keeps bothering us without killing us off every year. Why he always acknowledged Soldier, even though he could have ignored him,” the BLU Spy listed each thing with a finger.

Francis chuckled, “Back to the Scout though. You see, I don’t think Sniper will listen to me.”

“I have a better idea,” the BLU Spy insisted.

“Okay, I’m listening,” Francis went quiet, satisfied that the subject had shifted.

“If all you’re looking for is a single date that nobody has to know about or talk about in the future, then let’s not have the Sniper do it,” the BLU Spy explained.

“What?” Francis felt confused by this. Who would do it in the Sniper’s place? Not to mention, it was Sniper that the Scout had a fascination for.

“I’ll go in Sniper’s place,” the BLU Spy offered.

“Now hold on there, I can see a trap when it’s put in front of me,” Francis got to his feet and waved his arms around for emphasis, “There is no way I’m leading that boy into a trap!”

“It’s not a trap!” the BLU Spy looked hurt, “I wanna help! If it’s purely hands off, then there’s a way to pull off making it look like Sniper went on a date with Scout!”

“And if Scout talks about it in the future?” Francis growled, irritated that the man even thought he was stupid enough to try this.

“We’ll be straight forward. A nice evening, treat the boy to a fantasy. But at the end, I’ll say I just don’t feel it. I can’t bring myself to want Scout the way he wants me. Then that he should not stop trying for something new. That way he’ll get a boost without getting slammed hard,” the BLU Spy explained.

“That doesn’t explain-!” he was cut off as a finger pressed against his face.

“I’ll go on to explain that we shouldn’t talk about it. We should not even mention it. It should be a secret. That way nobody can cause harm by knowing the truth,” the Spy explained, almost excitedly.

“Still, I can’t trust you,” Francis insisted, taking a step back.

“What?” the Spy looked shock and hurt, “Why not? What reason have I given you not to trust me?”

“It’s not my safety I don’t trust you with, it’s Scout’s. I just can’t risk that,” Francis shook his head.

“Look, you’ve told me this secret. I’m not even going to tell anybody or take advantage of it. What more do you want from me?” the Spy insisted.

“Sorry, but you’re from BLU,” Francis shook his head, “And if there’s anything I learned being a mercenary, it’s that BLU and RED don’t mix.”

“Of course we do! That’s how we get purple!” the Spy insisted enthusiastically.

Francis shook his head, “I’m not going for it.”

“Fine,” the Spy shrugged, “You’re the one going to miss out on helping that boy.”

Francis growled at that. That was just a rude attack. He would even go as far as to call it a low blow.

“It’s up to you though,” the Spy put his hands up, in a gesture of quitting.

Francis sighed and rubbed his face with his hands. He had to decide. Did he trust the Spy or not? So far, the man seemed to be genuinely interested in helping. He was the closest thing to a reliable friend that the Engineer had, save for Scout and Soldier. Those two were not very reliable though, as they seemed to do things their own way.

“Alright,” Francis took a deep breath and let it out in a huff, “What is your plan?”


	8. Speeding Bullets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scout gets a date with Sniper, but it doesn't go according to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh...here's another chapter for all of you folks. I hope you enjoy! ;)

It would have been easier to try flying. That’s what Francis thought of the task at hand. To approach the Scout and get him to agree to a date with a man was taking a well-known risk. He was putting all of his cards on the table in betting that Scout was indeed interested in men.

He took a deep breath and decided to cowboy up. He looked at the little card that Spy had written for him. It was a little invitation to dinner in the RED Sniper’s handwriting.

Honestly, Francis was surprised the Sniper could write, and thus had a style of handwriting. The Spy had explained that he had practiced the Sniper’s handwriting, along with every other RED mercenary’s handwriting, just in case the Sniper left notes that he could alter or switch out with forgeries, but no such luck.

He cleared his throat and knocked on the door to the Scout’s room. He hoped the youth was in better spirits than before. Maybe h he had forgotten about the sketchbook incident. That was what he was hoping for.

The door opened and Scout appeared. He stepped out and looked around puzzled. There was not even a thought to somebody shorter knocking on his bedroom door. He must have forgotten about the doll completely.

“Down here, boy!” he called to the Scout.

Scout looked down and did a double take. His face was hit with surprise, before he smiled and bent to pick him up. The look in his eyes changed, showing no recollection of being wronged. It was a relief to think that he might have forgotten, but this set up would likely remind him.

“Engie! I’m so sorry! I am so…so sorry! I wasn’t thinking right! I was tired and totally spaced! I overreacted. I’m sorry!” Scout practically pleaded for forgiveness.

“No no,” Francis insisted, “I should be the one apologizing.”

“You didn’t do nothing wrong! It was my fault for overreacting! You could have been killed!” Scout insisted.

“Let’s agree to let bygones be bygones. Alright?” Francis offered as a compromise.

Scout smiled and nodded, “Yea! Alright!”

“Good,” he paused before he raised the card up, “Take this.”

Scout looked at the thing, a little perplexed. He did not seem to know what to tdo with it. Francis was not sure if he should mind the boy to try and read it. The frustrating few moments of watching the younger mercenary try to figure out what it was for without reading it were baffling.

“Boy, read the damn inviation!” he said, impatiently.

“Oh! It’s an invitation?” surprise hit the young man’s voice, “Invitation to what?”

Francis sighed, “A date, boy. I got you a date.”

“Oh! Uh…Engie…you didn’t have to uh…do that, really. I would…uh…rather you hadn’t. I’m not that…into…you know…”

“Just hush and go to the date,” Francis urged, “You might enjoy yourself.”

Scout hesitated, then he sighed, “Alright, I’ll go. Just for you though.”

 

Francis was relieved when Scout was dressed and ready to go. He was not too well dressed though. Maybe that was for the best. The Spy might have expected a bit more, but the normal Sniper would not expect so much. It was good to pretend like these standards would suit the situation.

Scout carried him halfway to the meeting place. Francis stopped him partway there and insisted to be put down. He did not tell the Scout, but he wanted to be a secret onlooker. He would not interrupt, but he would watch and make sure the BLU Spy was behaving.

He waited for Scout to go up the stairs to the watch tower, before he followed. He crept carefully up the stairs. He made no noise, as he slipped in between a pair of unused crates. He dared not let them know he had arrived to spy on them.

He peeped through the two crates to see the Spy seating Scout in a gentlemanly fashion. After that, he resumed the gruff exterior that the Sniper would normally have. They were strangely quiet after that. That made Francis worry.

He started to scurry out of his hiding place, when Scout suddenly stood up. He froze, watching Scout’s hands go up. The Spy stood up as well, a little surprised by the Scout. They stared at each other for a few moments.

Francis felt panic pound in his throat. Maybe Scout got wise. Perhaps he knew that this was the BLU Spy.

He started towards the table, intending to explain things. It would be best if it came from him, after all. He was not sure what the Spy had planned out, but surely he had planned out an emergency escape.

“Look, this isn’t going to work,” the Scout gestured between himself and the Spy.

Francis froze, bewildered by the Scout’s words. Maybe he did not know about the Spy after all. He may be in the clear. Then again, he might have been all wrong about Scout liking the Sniper.. He started kicking himself mentally as he thought about that. Scout was probably so uncomfortable right now. That thought in itself made him feel awful.

“I’m flattered, really,” Scout went on, “I just…you’re not…you’re not my type. Okay? Can this…can this stay between you and me?”

The Spy grunted, mimicking the Sniper’s typical behavior. He was strangely quiet, not saying a thing. Francis did not understand why he was not doing or saying anything. Surely he should be trying something. He was a Spy after all, he should know how to work with these types of things.

Scout turned to leave, then did a double take. He looked down at the ground at the Engiedoll. He lowered his head, feeling ashamed at being caught snooping. The younger mercenary bent down and quickly picked him up before he resumed towards the exit.

Francis waited for the barrage of anger with bated breath. It was coming, he was sure of that. It was going to hit and he was going to feel the worst kind of guilt. He was not even afraid of it happening. He just knew that it was coming.

“Sorry, Engie,” the Scout spoke quietly as he hurried down the stairs, “I just…this can’t work out. I know you put a lot of effort…couldn’t have been easy to get _that guy_ to do something like this. I just…”

“I…I’m sorry,” Francis stared at his feet. He watched the ground pass in the distance, not really focusing his vision.

“Don’t be,” Scout offered a smile, “It was really nice of you. I thought that…I mean…I kinda thought you’d be mad and get really…religious or something at me. You’re like a home grown Texan guy, so like…I figured you’d be like Calvin.”

“Who’s Calvin?” he looked up at Scout’s face.

“The um…the Engineer,” the Scout said hesitantly.

“Ah,” Francis looked back down. He had really been replaced in more ways than he liked.

“Yea, Calvin’s a bit…I dunno. There was a hint of something sexual between guys and he lost his shit,” Scout stopped at the bottom of the stairs. He took a deep breath and shook his head. “I’m sorry you went through all of this trouble for nothing, Engie. I really appreciate it, knowing you couldn’t have gotten him,” the Scout went on.

“Um…come again,” Francis did a double take, looking up at Scout’s face.

“D-don’t worry about it,” Scout chuckled nervously.

“No no, wait,” Francis put his hands up, “Who is _he_?”

“You know!” Scout huffed and started out the doorway, “The other Sniper. The guy I drew in my book.”

“That wasn’t-” he could not close his jaw as realization hit him. It was like a wave of confusion that was immediately followed by a tsunami of frustration. They had gone through all of that, but they had done it with the wrong Sniper disguise.

“Oh, for the love of!” he heard the Spy appear behind Scout.

Scout spun around and yelled, “Spy!”

The BLU had revealed himself, no longer using his disguise. Francis hoped he was not about to give away what they had just done. He did not want Scout to know that he had secretly set him up with the BLU Spy on a secret date that was not supposed to go any further than that.

“Yes, come with me,” the Spy grabbed the young man’s wrist, “I’m fed up with this.”

“Spy! Let got of him!” Francis panicked and tried to jump from Scout’s hand. The Scout held tightly to him though, tighter than before. He could only guess that the younger mercenary was suddenly frightened.

“Let go of me, you snake!” the Scout yanked his arm, but the Spy was quick to snatch the arm again. He might not be as fast on his feet as the Scout, but his hands moved quicker and with more precision.

“Come with me,” the Spy ordered, dragging the Scout along.

“Spy stop!” Francis called out.

He heard Scout muttering under his breath, “Fuck fuck fuck fuck. I don’t have my guns. Fuck.”

He took a deep breath, hoping he could talk sense into the Spy, “Now listen. Nobody here wants any trouble. Just let us go. We’ll-”

“Please, Engineer,” the Spy shot him a look.

“Look pal, I don’t know what you want, but I want to go to my room,” Scout said, struggling a bit more.

“Just come with me,” the Spy told him again, “I will be sure you are unharmed.”

“You can’t promise that!” Scout spat.

“Watch me,” the Spy responded, without hesitation.

Francis spoke again, hoping to reason with the Spy, “Spy, he’s right. There are eight other men on your base. And I don’t think-”

“Two of them are who we are going to go and meet,” he insisted, pulling the Scout along more quickly.

“Why? I don’t want to associate with no BLUs!” the Scout protested, trying to escape the grasp on his wrist.

Francis felt like his heart was going to pound its way out of his chest. He wanted to apologize profusely to Scout. He wanted to make the Spy stop what he was doing. He wanted anything but to be the reason that Scout died this evening.

“Just relax and follow me,” the Spy assured him again, “Nobody will harm you. You are here with me. They have no reason to hurt you.”

“You say that like they ain’t armed gunmen,” Scout protested. He was fighting less now though.

Panic struck the Engineer again when a familiar blue light appeared. It was a little dot that came from the BLU base. It could only have come from the BLU Sniper’s rifle. The man was aiming for them.

“Scout, duck!” Francis shrieked, fearful for his friend.

Spy immediately stepped into the way, letting the light train on himself. He paused for a minute, as the dot skirted over his lithe frame. He then raised the wrist he was holding, shaking the hand around like an object he had control of.

The dot shook around, seeming to have no aim anymore. When it disappeared, the Spy resumed walking, dragging the Scout along behind him. Scout and Francis were near breathless with terror at what had almost happened, but the Spy was very sure of himself.

Francis held his breath. At least, he figured he was holding his breath. His chest felt tight when he did so. He closed his eyes and waited, letting out a whispered prayer that the Spy was right.

He took a breath and opened his eyes when a new set of footsteps came into earshot. It was dark out, so it was a little difficult to see, but he caught the glint of dog tags a little ways away. He watched with bated breath as two figures approached them, meeting them partway.

The BLU Sniper raised a hand and pointed to the RED Scout, “What the hell is this bloke doing here?”

“I brought him here,” the Spy informed him, nonchalantly.

“I see that, what the hell you think you’re doing?” the Sniper barked.

“If your ego hasn’t been boosted yet, then you should find out who else likes you,” he took the Scout by his shoulders and pushed him in front of himself.

Terrified, Scout leaned back. He pressed backwards towards the Spy as hard as he could. His eyes jumped between the BLU Sniper and the BLU Scout though. No doubt trying to figure out where he was safest. Francis was reckoning that given there were three BLUs here, it was time to run.

“What the hell is this, Spy?” the Sniper demanded again.

“Go ahead Scout,” the Spy pushed the RED Scout again, as if the younger man might know what he was talking about, “Tell him.”

“I…uh…uhhhhh…” the poor kid was tongue tied. Francis did not blame him. This was very unfair.

“What are you saying?” the BLU Scout stepped forward, “This guy? This guy too? Him? What? Are you kidding me?”

At first, the BLU Scout’s words came out with a bit of malice. Then there was a strange sense of awe. He kept his eyes on the RED mercenary, as if he had somehow manifested before him like a ghostly spirit.

“I think you three need to talk,” suddenly the BLU Spy took Francis from the Scout’s hand.

“Hey! No wait!” Francis protested.

Strangely the RED Scout did not protest. He seemed confused and curious about what was going on with the BLU Sniper and the BLU Scout. He stood there in silence, the hand that had been holding Francis suddenly holding open air.

“We’ll just be over here,” the Spy assured the RED Scout, before walking away.

“The hell do you think you’re doing?!” Francis demanded, growing frustrated, “This wasn’t part of the plan! The plan was to-”

The Spy suddenly put a finger on his mouth, “I know what the plan was.”

He forced the finger away from his face with both hands, “Then what the hell are you doing?”

“After the talk we had, I got to thinking about it. I set up the BLU Scout with the BLU Sniper. They hit it off faster than I could have hoped for,” he explained.

“The hell are you thinking?! If they’re hitting it off, then you’re just setting Scout up for failure! Take me back there now, dammit!” he wished he had hair to grab onto and yank.

“Oh please,” the Spy rolled his eyes, “I know what I am doing. I am trying to help you out here. Just give me a chance to explain.”

“Then hurry up! Because I don’t want my Scout to go through respawn because of me!” he declared with frustration.

“Your Scout?” the Spy gave him a confused look.

“Yes! The RED Scout! The **RED** Scout!” Francis shrieked.

“Okay okay,” the Spy raised a defensive hand, “So, they were talking, but they didn’t just hit it off. Turns out they were hesitant to join together because they both also liked a certain someone.”

“Spy, simplify this, I don’t have all night,” Francis growled.

“They both want the RED Scout as much as they want each other,” the Spy explained.

“Great, so you put him in an even more awkward position? Great! Thanks, Spy!” he spat sarcastically.

“I think you’ll find it’s a little bit better than that,” Spy said. He continued walking for a long time.

 

They walked for a long while. The Spy just kept strolling, until he was circling the base. Every once in a while, Francis demanded to be taken back to Scout. To which the Spy would reply, “In a little bit.” That just made him more frustrated, given his already existent lack in patience.

Finally, the Spy came to a stop and looked around, “Huh. This is where we left them.”

Francis felt panic well up, “Dammit, Spy! If something happened to the RED Scout, I’m holding you personally accountable!”

“I think they went inside,” the Spy tried to assure him.

He brought Francis along as he headed to the BLU Sniper’s camper van. He knew the man had it, but it felt weird to realize that both Sniper’s had a camper van. He was quiet as the Spy knocked on the door, waiting for a reply.

He was not kept waiting as a bunch of noise came from inside. There were muffled noises, and the sound of somebody fumbling to the door. When it swung open, the BLU Scout was standing in the doorway, slightly leaning out.

“Oh hey, Spy!” the BLU Scout had a happy grin on his face.

“I take it things are going well?” the Spy asked quietly.

“W-well um…” the Scout blushed and glanced over his shoulder.

Francis felt his face pale, as if blood was leaving his head. He wriggled in the hand that was holding him. He needed to know that this had not been some sort of weird trap. He needed to know that things actually were going well for the RED Scout.

“Scout!” he called as loudly as he could, “Scout!”

A set of footsteps came to the door and the RED Scout appeared, cradling a small steaming cup, “Yea? Hey, Engie.”

“Scout, are you okay?” he asked, worriedly. Spy could say all of the things he wanted, but it would not make the Engineer calm down.

“Yea, I’m fine,” the RED Scout assured him, “We’re just talking. You know? Sniper had some…good coffee in his van. We’re just having a chat. Um…hey I might be here a while? So uh…um…”

The Spy grinned, “I’ll take care of him. Don’t worry.”

“Um…yea okay,” the RED Scout spoke so hesitantly. It was odd for him.

“Are you sure that you’re okay?” Francis pressed, hoping that he was indeed not lying.

“I’m fine, Engie,” the RED Scout assured him, “I’ll just be…a while longer…we’re talking about stuff.”

Francis glanced up at the Spy, then sighed, “Alright. I’ll see you in the morning.”

With little more in parting goodbyes, the Spy carried Francis away. They did not go to the RED base though. They headed to the BLU base.

“Er…I don’t mean to be a bother, but the RED base is _that_ way,” he pointed.

“I’ll be Engie-sitting for tonight,” the Spy chuckled, “So you can stay in my room until morning. I’ll probably just bring you to the Scout tomorrow.”

Francis sighed, “Fine.” He reluctantly accepted his fate as the Spy brought him to his smoking room.

“This is where you sleep?” he asked, a bit put off by the smell of ash everywhere.

“No no,” the Spy approached a bookshelf and pulled one of the adornments. The wall made noise and suddenly it opened.

Francis gaped in awe. A secret room in the base? The opening mechanism had to have been crafted well to be that easy to miss. Not to mention how quiet it was, making it improbable that others could hear it in the other rooms.

The Spy stepped inside with Francis in hand. He set him on the night stand by the bed and turned on the lamp. He paused to take off his shoes.

“Excuse me, while I get washed,” he excused himself to the bathroom.

Francis was surprised at finding that there was a little bathroom. From the sound of it there was a shower, a sink and a toilet in there. The room was very small, but he credited it as being cozy.

When the Spy returned, Francis felt a wave of shock. He had dressed down to soft pajamas, putting the suit aside to be cleaned later. His head was uncovered, revealing a mess of damp brown hair that had been trained to sit slick back against his head. Francis could only stare in amazement at what he was seeing.

“Goodnight,” the Spy said, not even taking notice of how shocked Francis was.

He crawled into his bed and situated himself under his covers. He seemed completely oblivious to showing his face to the Engineer, even as he reached for the lamp.

“Rest well,” he said, before rolling over onto his side.

Francis pondered this for a while. Maybe the Spy trusted him. Maybe this was his safe space. Maybe this was the place where he could be himself. Or perhaps even the Spy was so tired that he completely forgot the reason he wore a balaclava. Maybe he forgot he was not wearing one at all.

His concern did not last long as the fog of sleepiness settled in. He yawned and stretched his arms. It was not long before sleep overtook him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eheh, I told you he's not usually right on his first guess.


	9. Telling Demoman the Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Engiedoll hitches a ride with Soldier out to battle, but he ends up with the wrong team. Surprisingly, he gets a chance to talk to the BLU Demoman, but with worse consequences than he expected.

Francis woke and yawned. He had forgotten where he was sleeping, leaving him confounded as he looked around the small windowless bedroom he was in. He had fallen over and laid out on the hard wood of the bedside nightstand. It was hard and flat, worse than the makeshift bed Pyro had given him the night before. Still, perhaps he needed to get a better night’s sleep one of these nights. Maybe he would actually figure out a place where he could return to and sleep comfortably in the near future.

He looked around and was surprised to see that the Spy was already awake and getting ready for the day. He was fully dressed, with his balaclava already on. He seemed to be trying to fix something on his face though. What was he peering so closely at a mirror for?

He stood up and stretched his limbs. Every part of his body felt stiff and sore, despite not having any muscles to find discomfort. That noted, he did not have any nerves either, so he was not sure how he even felt anything with his body.

Given the Spy did not yet know he was awake, he spared this time to look around some more. It was a quaint and cozy little room. It paled in size, when compared to any other bedroom. Granted, he did not know the size of the bedrooms on BLU, but he figured the base was built much the same as the RED base.

The bed itself took up most of the space. It hugged the far wall, which was adorned with a shelf that was recently screwed into place and covered with some journals and trinkets. At the end of the bed was a trunk, where Francis guessed his clean clothes were kept. The nightstand was tucked into the corner on the opposite side of the bed. Opposed to the nightstand was the nook that held the sink, where the Spy was currently bent over gazing into the mirror. Next to that was the little renovated bathroom, a nook where the Spy took his shower the night before.

“Ah! You’re awake!” the Spy suddenly spoke, “Glad to see you’re up!”

“Y-yea,” he grunted as he stretched, “Don’t mind me. Just trying to get limber.”

“Oh I’m so sorry! Did you need a better sleeping place?” the Spy gave him a concerned look, “You should have told me! You could have stayed on the bed with me!”

“N-no, it’s no problem,” Francis raised his hands with a nervous smile, “That might have ended up awkward…for the both of us.”

“What? No it wouldn’t have,” the Spy shook his head, “You’re fairly small, I could have easily made space for you!”

“That…um…” he thought back to the night before.

Scout got to talk to the _man_ he liked. He thought back to Soldier and Merasmus and realized that they were men who liked men. He wondered who else liked men. Of course, that led him to the terrifying thought that Spy might also like men. He certainly seemed friendly, and if how he was acting towards the little Engiedoll was any hint, then the man might well have a crush on Francis.

“I’m not interested…in men…that way,” he spoke hesitantly, feeling like he was digging a grave for himself.

The Spy blinked at him for a few moments. They stared at each other, at a loss for what to say. Then the Spy gasped and cupped a hand over his mouth. The other hand rose towards Francis defensively.

“Oh! No no no! I meant nothing like that! I’m not…no! I am not interested in men like that at all!” the Spy exclaimed defensively.

With fire fueled cheeks, Francis turned his eyes to his feet bashfully, “S-sorry. Sorry for assuming. It’s just…after everything…things are a bit hard to decipher. You know?”

The Spy nodded slowly. He lowered his hand from his mouth, “I uh…it’s okay…I just…don’t have that kind of interest.”

“I’m awful sorry for assuming,” Francis mumbled.

“No, it’s…it’s quite alright,” the Spy insisted.

Francis cleared his throat nervously, “Again, I’m real sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” the Spy hurriedly adjusted his tie, then picked up Francis. He turned off the lamp and opened the wall leading into the smoking room.

Francis was quiet as the Spy carried him out into the hallway. Things looked very similar here, if reversed. He quietly looked around as they existed the BLU base. Neither of them spoke. Neither of them dared to break that silence that had permeated with them.

The Spy’s first stop was the BLU Sniper’s van. He knocked gently on the door, waiting for the Sniper himself to open it. He frowned from behind yellow aviators, a smile he previously had lost.

“Yea?” the Sniper frowned.

“Came to see if Scout was here,” Spy held up the Engiedoll a little, “The RED Scout.”

“Nah,” the Sniper broke eye contact with the Spy, as if embarrassed, “Both of them went to their rooms last night.

“Right, of course,” the BLU Spy hesitated, “Guess we’re headed to the RED base then.”

“We?” the Sniper blinked at the Spy, letting his sunglasses fall down his nose a bit.

“Engie and I,” the Spy answered, raising Francis again.

“Hello,” he waved in greeting, assuming he should not let the Spy look like a crazy idiot.

The Sniper’s jaw dropped and he gaped at the Engiedoll with amazement. He apparently did not believe his eyes. He just stared without a word spoken.

“I have to get him back to the REDs,” the Spy explained, “If you’ll be so kind as to keep this to yourself, that would be great.”

“Have you been hanging around the REDs?” the Sniper took a step out of his camper van.

The Spy took a step back, a little intimidated by the taller man who already had an advantage with the steps of his camper. He held himself rigidly upright though, “I’ve been spying. And if it’s any consolation, that brought me to setting you up with not one, but two Scouts.”

“Thanks for that,” the Sniper grumbled crankily.

Francis opened his mouth to speak, wanting to ask about the conversation from the night before. He hoped things went well. It could not have been easy for any of them. Likely the Sniper chose one of the Scouts and chased off the other. Francis just hoped he did not chase off the RED Scout.

“You’re welcome,” the Spy chuckled, before he turned and trotted towards the RED base.

Halfway there he put on a disguise as the RED Scout. Francis looked up at the disguised face, feeling kind of weird about it. It was strange to feel comfortable around the BLU Spy, even knowing that it was him disguised as a RED.

“Howdy there Scout!” a familiar voice tipped the situation.

Francis turned in his hand to see the Engineer. The man had a friendly grin and waved to him in greeting. There was something nerve wracking about it though, given that Francis was currently on good terms with the BLU Spy, but had yet to formally meet the new RED Engineer.

“Hey Engie!” the Spy waved, putting on the Scout’s voice.

“Say uh…you up late last night?” the Engineer inquired.

The Spy started to stammer, “Um…well I-”

“Breakfast is ready!” the Medic called from the kitchen.

“Huh,” Francis seemed a little surprised that there was community breakfasts anymore. Maybe it was a special morning.

“Gotta go! See ya pally!” the Spy took off quickly, heading through the halls to the Scout’s room.

He quickly knocked on the door and the moment the door opened, Francis was shoved into the Scout’s hands. The Scout was sputtering with confusion, unsure of how to react to this. When he looked up at the Spy, the older man saluted with a smile.

“Medic called for breakfast,” the Spy said in the Scout’s voice, “Better head on over there!”

After that the Spy vanished without a trace. The cameras apparently did not pick that up either, as no alarms went off about a BLU Spy in the base. Scout and Francis were left baffled, standing there in confusion.

“Was that the BLU Spy?” the Scout asked, as if he might have just dreamed of seeing himself hand himself the Engiedoll.

“Yes,” Francis nodded.

Scout stepped out of his door and carefully closed it behind himself. He seemed to be picking his words carefully, thinking before he spoke, “Did he say there was breakfast?”

Francis nodded again, “Yes he did. I heard the Medic call for breakfast.”

“Huh…that’s odd,” the Scout started down the hallway quietly.

“So…um…can I ask you how things went last night?” Francis asked, hoping to find out good news. He was afraid though, and it was weighing on his stomach.

“Later,” Scout insisted as they approached the kitchen, “I’ll tell you about it later.”

“Okay,” Francis reluctantly fell silent as the Scout walked into the dining hall.

Several mercenaries had gathered already, but not all of them. The Engineer was there, along with the Demoman, Medic, Pyro and Spy. The Engineer was busily talking with the Demoman and Medic, while the Spy read a newspaper and sipped on tea.

“Ah! Scout! Welcome! We’ve made breakfast!” the Medic beckoned to the younger mercenary.

The Pyro started bouncing around and ran towards Scout. Their voice was muffled so there was no telling what they were saying. However, the way they reached out to try and take the Engiedoll in Scout’s hand made it clear what they wanted.

Scout was thankfully faster than Pyro, pulling Francis away from the Pyro’s grasping hands. He shook a finger at the Pyro with his free hand, “Pyro! No! I told you no before man! Leave Engie alone.”

“Ya’ll don’t share things?” the Engineer spoke up with a chuckle.

That left a seething anger in Francis’ gut, but he did not know why. He could only suppose that it was because the man up and referred to him as a thing. That did not make sense though, given several others still thought he was a lifeless doll. He should not feel so upset at the Engineer.

He took a deep breath and pushed it down with a smile. He stood up on Scout’s hand to gain a little height, “If you don’t mind, I would prefer if you didn’t refer to me that way. I’m not a thing to share. And Pyro, keep your ash grubby hands off of me.”

Pyro made a very sad sound behind the mask. They seemed like a kicked puppy. It actually made him feel a little guilty for talking to them that way. It was especially rude after the kind way they had handled him. Having taken him to the Sniper for repairs no less!

He could not really tell if Pyro respected him as a living being though. There was no way for him to communicate with the firebug. Given his previous thoughts on fire, and almost being burned before, he would rather stay away from Pyro and their work. He was safer with Scout or somebody else.

“I’m sorry partner,” he offered his condolences, “I just ain’t looking to burn to a crisp like a marshmallow. Everybody knows you play with fire a lot, even when you aren’t working.”

The Pyro started explaining something. They had elaborate hand gestures to go along with it, to accentuate whatever they were saying. It was all lost on the Engiedoll’s ears though. He could only shake his head to show that he had no idea what was being said.

“Look, Py,” Scout butted in, “Just leave him to me and Solly, okay? I’m sure you mean well, but like…you scare us.”

“No need to be rude, son,” the Engineer butted in.

“It’s true though,” the Scout insisted, “And I ain’t leaving Engie lying around to be terrorized or nothing. Speaking of which.”

Scout lifted Francis and set him on his shoulder. It was not the nicest perch, given how bony his shoulders apparently were, but it was a nice perch. He could feel up high and safe from here. At the same time, he was not sitting in a hand like some useless thing.

Scout sat down at the table, and Pyro sat next to him. The Pyro still seemed entranced by the Engiedoll’s existence. Maybe they thought if they kept on staring, Scout might just hand him over. That or Pyro was just a bunch of dogs and cats in a suit, waiting to be given their table scraps.

“Here you are, Scout,” the Medic handed a plate to Scout, then passed another to the Pyro. Of course the Pyro would not eat it, but nobody was going to not give some to him.

“What’s the occasion?” Scout asked.

“We had a…uh…” the Medic cleared his throat, “A set of breakthroughs last night! We’re celebrating this morning!”

“Get yourself some coffee, doc,” the Engineer chuckled, “You earned it. Quite the overnighter we had. What about you Scout? What have you been up to?”

The Engineer grabbed a plate and sat down across from the Scout. Of course, he ignored the Engiedoll. For some reason, that no longer seemed like a viable option. Francis wanted _somebody_ to pay attention to him. At least, somebody other than the Pyro.

“What’s going on in here now?” the Sniper’s voice cut through the chatter.

Soon, it was a boisterous conversation. All of the voices were too big and loud for Francis to speak up over them. He started to wonder if this was why Pyro’s mental health was questionable.

Probably the biggest voice was the one that entered sometime after the Sniper. The Soldier had a big smile on his face and saluted everybody in the room, “GOOD MORNING TROOPS!”

“Soldier!” Scout had food in his mouth and tried to leap to his feet. He immediately choked and gagged on his food.

Francis barely kept balance, almost slipping off of his bony shoulder. He struggled by grabbing onto his shirt to keep himself up on his shoulder and secure in place. He breathed a sigh of relief that he did not fall to the ground.

“You found Engineer!” the Soldier grinned with happy triumph.

“Uh…yea!” the Scout said, barely breathing around the food in his throat.

Soldier marched over and plucked Francis right off of his shoulder. His big grinning face was probably the best thing Francis could have seen in ever. The man was smiling at him and was happy to see him. That was a better feeling than he could have ever accounted for.

 

Francis must have been talking with the Soldier for the entire morning, before the man had to shuffle off to the respawn room. This time, before the Soldier could leave him at the locker, Francis protested.

“I need you to take me along with you this time,” he requested.

“It’s not safe out there, Engie,” the Soldier argued softly. The concern on his face drew his mouth into a frown.

“I know that,” he nodded in understanding. He kept his voice calm and soft. “You know, I never got to see what it was like rocket jumping. Maybe you could show me?”

That put a smile on the Soldier’s face. He forgot about safety, throwing the idea out the window in favor of tucking Francis into the pocket fashioned into his belt. He made himself comfortable there, since he was going to be there all day long. He just hoped that there was not enough room for him to slip out during things like rocket jumps.

 

Most of the battle was uneventful. He found himself bored, and even dozed off a few times. He mentally kicked himself, minding himself that he should get better sleep from now on. Sure, he slept well enough in the Spy’s room, but the night before had been chaos upon chaos.

It was near the end of the work day when Francis caught sight of the BLU Demoman. The man came hurling in from the skies, having launched himself from a roof with his stickies. He let out a war cry, excited and ready to go for blood.

A wave of nausea hit him as he realized that he could easily die here. He swallowed it down, hoping that the sensation of bile was just that, a sensation. He braced himself, ready for impact as the Demoman took on the Soldier.

“Come at me, lad!” the Demoman cackled as the Soldier shoved him back.

The Soldier let out a war scream as he beat against his helmet with a shovel. He was definitely ready for a fight, if nonsensical about it. The Demoman merely held his sword at the ready, looking to charge up against the Soldier.

Soldier let out a battle cry and started towards the Demoman. The BLU did the same, screaming as he charged at the Soldier. Francis closed his eyes against the barrage of violence that he knew was coming. The moment it was over, it was not quite finished.

He yowled in surprise as the Soldier’s body not only stopped but fell to the ground. He fell along with it. That was nothing new. Typically he just climbed out and headed for cover, waiting for the Soldier to come over to pick him up. However, when he started scrambling out, he found himself scooped up by a hand.

“Hey! Let go of me!” he struggled against the grip.

He stared up in astonishment at the BLU Demoman, who stared right back at him. He had a stunned look on his face too, his one eye wide. He blinked at Francis, staring at him for a good long while of silence.

“Are you alive, little bugger?” the man asked.

He silently nodded, not sure what else to say. He was scared he might die at any moment. He was not sure what was going through the Demoman’s mind.

“You were in Solly’s pocket?” the Demoman asked.

Francis gave another little nod. He was still not sure if he should even say anything. He tried to look back in his memories of the Demoman. The guy was friendly when they were on the same team. In fact, Francis would have counted him as the nicest mercenary around. He got along with most everybody, especially the Soldier. That impressed the curious idea that something must be wrong if the man was so focused on attacking the Soldier.

“Demoman,” he said cautiously.

“Aye,” was the man’s simple response, still staring at the doll in his hand.

“How come you’re mad at Solly?” he asked, with a careful tone.

“I ain’t- well,” the Demoman averted his eyes. His miserable frown spoke more than words. Still, the man managed a few more bits of explanation, “It ain’t the same. We were pals, but…now all he wants to do is fight. It’s the only time I get to spend with him.”

He looked at the ground at the headless Soldier. The head had rolled away with the helmet somewhere. The Demoman gave one of the limp legs a gentle nudge with his boot.

“Now, I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore,” he sighed, “I just wanted more time with him. Now I’m cutting him up as fast as I can, whenever I can.”

“What about the time you spend beating the tar out of him?” Francis asked, a little less cautious now.

Demoman scoffed, “I get just as beat as that man does! It’s the one time out of the day I get to spend close to my ol-” His voice broke and he rubbed his eyes with the back of his free hand.

“Sorry,” the man mumbled.

“No no,” Francis assured him, “It’s fine. Take your time.”

The Demoman sniffled and started towards the shade of a building. He sat there by the corner, with his back to the wall. He set Francis on his knee, where he could easily sit down. The shade felt nice, reminding him of just how hot it was here.

“I miss being pals,” Demoman explained, “If I could take it all back, I would.”

“I get it,” Francis gave him a nod, “We all worked together. We were friends.”

“We?” the Demoman gave him a stumped blink.

“I may look like a doll now, but that’s just because of magic,” he hastily explained.

The Demoman nodded slowly. The cogs seemed to be turning in his head, behind his eyes. He let out a huff and gave the little Engineer a pat on the back with three fingers.

“Good to have you back, mate,” he said with a smile.

“Good to be back, I guess,” he shrugged. He was not back back, after all. He was just back in the living world, somehow surviving in the stitchings of a ragdoll form. “I’m concerned about you and the Soldier,” he turned the topic back, “He gets beat and goes home with bruising and scrapes.”

“It ain’t my fault the lad doesn’t go to his Medic!” the Demoman scoffed.

“I’m just worried,” Francis insisted, “It’s a common occurrence, and you have been focused on him. You’re the only one who sends him off with scrapes and cuts and bruising. You beat the tar out of him, but nobody else does.”

“It’s all I can do since I told him,” Demoman sighed and grabbed a bottle of his scrumpy. He guzzled down a few gulps, before offering some to him.

“No thanks, I’ll be stuck smelling like it,” he held his hands up. He quickly switched the topic back again, “What did you tell him, though?”

“I told him…” he paused to drink more of his alcohol. When he was finished he let out a belch and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “I told him I loved him,” he explained, “It wasn’t even…it wasn’t when we separated either. It was before that.” He hesitated, looking up to the sky with a teary eye. “My heart felt like it stopped beating. The respawn was down and you were already gone. I thought it was the end of us! I thought we were all gone and doomed!” he sniffled loudly as the tears threatened to fall.

“What did you say to him?” Francis pressed.

Demoman sniffed again, wiping the tear from his eye, “I told him I love him. I told him that if I died, I wanted him to know. I treasured his friendship too much to tell him before, but if we were to die, I wanted him to know. I wanted to hold him and tell him how much I loved him every day. I wanted to make him feel special. I wanted…I still want…I want him to know how much I care.”

The man lost his senses. He shuddered as he sobbed. He covered his eyes with his hand, letting the tears fall from his good eye. He rubbed over his eyes, shifting the eye patch, trying to get the tears to stop. They would not stop flowing though. He became bent over his knees, his body wracked with painful sobs.

Francis rose to his feet and did his best to comfort the Demoman. Maybe a hug would have sufficed if he had bigger arms. All he could do was pat and stroke the man’s arm when he could reach it.

All the while, he pondered what he was saying. All he had told him was how he was feeling. Did Solly ever tell him about Merasmus?

He opened his mouth to ask that question, but thought better of it. Demoman was crying his heart out. He needed more than a minute to at least calm down from that. His heart was probably already a wreck as it was. This news would destroy him. If nothing else though, he deserved to know the truth. What was more, Merasmus deserved to know what Soldier never told him.

“You know, this…this made me feel better,” the Demoman put on a smile, sniffling as he wiped his face. He grinned at Francis, and it broke his heart.

“Demo…there’s something that…well, I need to tell you about,” he said, hesitantly.

“Whatever it is,” the Demoman nodded, “I can handle it. Is this about something else, or…are we still talking about Soldier.”

“It’s about Solly,” Francis started, “Well, he’s-”

He cut off at the sound of the Soldier’s screams. The man came charging in, with his shovel raised. Of course, that would be his choice of dealing with the situation.

The Demoman was unphased, gently tucking the Engiedoll in a pocket before raising his sword. He met the shovel, which came upon him with full force. He was sturdy and unmoving, like a whole new person. He did not even grin or smirk, suddenly sure of his blade.

“You’ll hand over what’s not yours, son!” the Soldier declared.

The Demoman gave the Soldier a push then sliced at him. Francis flinched, closing his eyes as the sword hacked through his neck. Blood spurted from the headless neck as the body fell slowly to the ground.

Unaffected, the Demoman grabbed a rag from his pocket to wipe his blade. He slowly walked back over to the spot in the shade where they had been talking. He pulled Francis out of his pocket, giving him his knee to sit on while he wiped his blade.

“It’s not all me, pal,” the Demoman stated, gesturing back towards the body. Francis did not look, because he did not want to look.

“There’s uh…something you should know,” Francis said, returning to their earlier topic.

“I’m listening,” the Demoman said. His fingers patiently caressed his blade with the rag, cleaning away blood and grime.

“It’s…it’s about Merasmus,” Francis said with a forlorn sigh. Why was he the one doing this? Soldier should just tell him.

“I thought this was about the Soldier!” the Demoman looked at him with surprise.

“Well…yes…” Francis said hesitantly.

“Are we talking about the Soldier or not?” the Demoman asked.

“We are indeed talking about him,” Francis nodded, “But this is also about Merasmus.”

The man went on a harsh rant, “No good, two-faced, cutthroat, nasty, grandma’s moomoo wearing, wrinkle shrouded, black magic casting, smoke and mirrors playing, house haunting, Engineer killing, spell casting, voodoo hexing, eye stealing, dead bringing, floating around like a witch on a garden hose-”

“Okay okay!” Francis held up his hands to quiet the Demoman down. He needed a few moments to absorb everything the man had said. “To be fair, he didn’t kill me, robots did. And…he’s not as bad as you would think.”

The Demoman gave him a look of disbelief, “Are you serious, lad?!”

“I am very serious,” Francis nodded.

“You can’t sit there telling me that there’s anything good about that glorified hag!” Demoman declared.

Francis shook his head, “Now hold on. You don’t know the…the whole of it.”

He began to regret this. Maybe this was why the soldier never told him. It would only take an inch more of temper to set off the Demoman and cause him to rip up the Engiedoll like he was nothing. That was a terrifying thought on its own.

“Just…just calm down,” he spoke softly, hoping that the Demoman might relax a bit.

The Demoman took a deep breath and looked to him, “I’m…I’m fine. Go ahead, lad. Tell me what you wanted to tell me.”

Dread was stuck in his belly. There was no turning back now. Then again, why should he turn back? The Demoman deserved to know the truth. He deserved to know why his affections were not returned. He deserved to understand what it was that kept Soldier at such a distance, and why all of this was concerning people.

Francis took a breath, “Alright. Soldier and Merasmus are together.”

“Together?” the Demoman frowned.

“They’re a…they’re a couple,” he explained, “Apparently they have been for a while. For a long time actually. Before I died. Before all of that went down. They were together, but they had to keep it in private.”

“You mean the lad’s actually got some liking for men too?” the Demoman exclaimed with shock.

“He’s…only got eyes for Merasmus,” he said, with heat in his face. He did not actually know what the Soldier liked, but from past conversations with him, he cared very deeply about Merasmus.

“You’re fucking joking,” the Demoman said, staring listlessly.

“I’m not,” Francis pressed, “I’m serious. This is very serious.”

“He’s with that dress wearing, eye thief?!” he suddenly leaped to his feet, causing Francis to fall to the ground.

He grunted, but forced himself back onto his own feet for a bit of height, “We…neither of us knows all of the details with Merasmus. All I know is that they are together. Soldier would never betray Merasmus. And I don’t think he-”

He did not get to finish as the Demoman tromped back out onto the empty battling area. He watched, listening as the scream of the Soldier came from the distance. He was coming closer and closer.

Francis picked up what was left of his confidence and ran after the Demoman. He had to stop him from whatever he was going to do. It was probably another strike to the Soldier’s neck. If the man ever wizened up, the Demoman would never be able to cut his head off again.

“I fucking put my heart and soul into this job…into being his friend…into him! And for what? I didn’t ask much. I sure as shit in a hell hole did not ask for this!” the Demoman ranted, holding his sword at the ready. He knew the Soldier was coming to meet him again.

“Demoman! Please listen!” he begged in earnest.

“I’m going to teach that shite face a lesson!” the Demoman readied himself.

“There are less violent ways of handling this,” the Enginer pleaded with him, “I want to help!”

“You’ve helped enough,” the Demoman used his foot to gently push the Engiedoll away to a safe distance, “Thanks for telling me, mate.”

“No! Please!” Francis begged.

“I appreciate it,” the Demoman pushed him again as he tried to approach, “but you can’t do anything with this anymore.”

“Demoman, let me help!” Francis pleaded again.

“There’s nothing more you can do, mate,” the Demo’s eye trained on the sky, where the Soldier was flying over a building, “It’s between him and me now.”

“No! No it’s not!” Francis pleaded. He stayed where he was this time. “I’m involved in this. Merasmus is involved in this!”

“Merasmus can suck an overripe cherry!” the Demoman spat on the ground.

They were quiet for a minute as the Soldier finally came sailing through the sky towards him. The Demoman’s grip tightened on his sword, as he glared at the figure falling towards him. Francis felt like he must be holding his breath as he watched the Soldier sail towards him, aiming to slam his shovel into the Demoman’s head.


	10. Truth in Bromance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fight begins, the conversation starts. Demoman and Soldier clash again!  
> Francis finally gets to find out what happened with Scout.

The sudden alert from the Administrator that the RED team had won took Francis by surprise. He looked up to see the Demoman’s sword disappear. With it went the Demoman’s confidence. He felt the air where his hands had held a sword. He clenched his hands into fists and stepped aside so that the Soldier swung at air when he landed.

Demoman turned, swinging a fist to land it square in the side of the Soldier’s head. The Soldier grunted in pain, turning as he fell to try and face his opponent. The Demoman had both fists up, ready to duke it out.

“Demoman!” the Soldier put his shovel away and raised his fists, “Give me back that Engiedoll!”

“Come and get him!” the Demoman leaped at the Soldier, and the two began parrying each other’s fists. Glares stuck bore into each other’s eyes as they became enthralled with their fight.

“Stop!” Francis tried to get their attention. Their voices were too loud for him though. “Stop! I’m right here! I’m fine! Soldier! Demoman! Stop!”

Neither of them heard him. Neither of them listened. They just wanted to fight. They just wanted to throw fists and wrestle each other to the ground. They just wanted to cause scrapes and bruises, and beat on each other’s ribs.

Suddenly, the Demoman broke through it as Soldier suddenly put him into a headlock, “I can’t believe you! You! You’re with that Merasmus fucker!”

Suddenly, Soldier released him and backed away, scrambling to put space between them. Half of his face was covered, but Francis imagined shock on his face. He was probably trying to figure out in his head why the Demoman knew about that.

Francis knew that it was time to fess up. At this moment, he came forward, hoping to get their attentions. They barely paid him mind though.

“I told him,” he stated.

The Soldier’s head whipped around and he stared with a gaping maw, “ _You_ told him?! Engie?!” He looked so dumbfounded.

He nodded, then looked at the ground. He felt some shame for revealing Soldier’s secret. It was the Soldier’s secret, after all. Seemed he was going around telling BLUs left and right of the REDs’ secrets. He sighed at that thought.

“You weren’t even going to tell me?” the Demoman scoffed. He did not bother to get up off of the ground. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

The Soldier did not bother to answer that question. He continued to question Francis, “You told _him_? About Merasmus?”

“He deserved to know,” Francis raised his head and stuck his confidence into his heart. He had to stand up for himself if he expected anybody to take him seriously. That also meant standing up for his actions, even if they were half wrong. “You were keeping it secret and that was causing problems,” he added for good measure.

“You can’t just tell him that!” the Soldier declared, in a high pitched voice.

“I already did,” Francis said sternly, “And now you need to tell the truth to Merasmus!”

“What? I-” realization must have struck him because the Soldier fell silent.

“You didn’t tell Merasmus what Demoman said, did you?” Francis demanded, “You certainly didn’t tell me.”

“That’s…not relevant!” the Soldier protested with hands raised.

“Oh! And I suppose telling me about dating that slimy, eye stealing bag of bones is irrelevant too!” the Demoman spat.

The Soldier’s lips tightened as he took another step back. He did not seem to know what to do or say in this situation. He was definitely not on the offense, even though he was the only one armed.

Demoman struggled to his feet, facing the Soldier squarely. He held his chin up high as the two of them faced each other. No fists were raised though. Neither of them seemed like they were looking for a fight.

“You two have things you ought to talk about,” Francis spoke up, “You ought to talk it out.”

“I ain’t speaking to this double crosser!” the Demoman barked.

“I am not the double crosser! And my Merasmus did _not_ take your eye!” Soldier raised his voice.

“Oh really? Then who did? If not _your Merasmus_ then what other bloody hag in a dress did?” Demoman demanded with a scoff.

“It was another Merasmus!” the Soldier barked.

The Demoman was taken aback by that. Francis was a little confused too. There was more than one Merasmus?

“Oh sure! I suppose some other wizarding bloke stole my eye!” the Demoman spat, “Who do you reckon did that, lad? Who else?”

“It was another Merasmus. Not _my_ Merasmus!” Solly proclaimed.

Demoman burst into laughter, “Oh sure! Not _your_ Merasmus! How many men’s got the name Merasmus anyhow?”

“Merasmus is not his name,” Soldier stated firmly.

“Eh what?” the Demoman did a double take.

“Merasmus is not his name,” the Soldier informed him.

The Demoman gave him a confused look that demanded explanation. Francis waited in silence, hoping that the Soldier would explain everything of his own accord.

“His name is Joseph, not Merasmus. He is a wizard. He joined Mann Co and they gave him the position of _Merasmus_ ,” the Soldier explained.

“Merasmus…is a position?” the Demoman blinked at him, astounded at what he was hearing.

“Wizards don’t even take eyes anymore,” the Soldier explained, “He hasn’t even been working here that long.”

The Demoman blinked a few times. He looked like he might burst into tears again. Francis walked over to him, laying a hand on his calf, in hopes of trying to comfort him.

“You…aren’t dating the man who took my eye?” the Demoman fumbled through his words.

The Soldier shook his head, “No.”

The Demoman sniffled. His shoulders slumped just a bit, as though relief had hit him. He kept blinking as the tear built up in his eye.

Francis patted his boot and caught his attention. He bent to scoop him up, suddenly hugging him to his chest. Francis did not say anything about it. Demoman needed to hug him, so he did not mind.

“I also don’t have to be with somebody just to legitimize what I said,” the Soldier replied.

“What?” the Demoman blinked at the Soldier again, confused.

“I don’t have to be with somebody else to say what I said!” the Soldier said, a bit more firmly this time. His hands were tightened into balls and his stance was rigid.

“What…did you say to him?” Francis asked softly, “What did you tell him Solly?”

“When he told me he loved me, I told him that I didn’t feel the same,” the Soldier said. His head sunk a bit, like he was ashamed of how he felt. “I don’t feel that way about you.”

“I don’t care!” the Demoman exclaimed, with a whiny pitch to his voice. It startled the Soldier and made him push his helmet back to look at him. “I never wanted to push you! I never told you before that…I just…I didn’t want to ruin our friendship before, but I didn’t want it to end like that! We could have died…I told you that…and now our friendship is ruined. We were friends and I ruined it!” The man started sobbing, tears streaking down his face. Even the eye patch had liquid flowing from it, though it was not very free to do so.

“I…uh…” the Soldier apparently did not know what to say. He was hushed all over again.

“We were friends once,” the Demoman said weakly, clinging tightly to the Engiedoll. He might as well have been trying to hang on for dear life.

Francis could hear the Soldier’s footsteps getting closer, but he could not see him. He had to wait for the Demoman to straighten, before he could turn and see the Soldier getting close to him. He put a hand on the Demoman’s shoulder, looking him in the eye.

“We can be friends again,” the Soldier said, with a prideful tone.

The look in the Demoman’s eye was like that of a puppy, before he smiled and clapped a hand on the Soldier’s shoulder. He sniffled and suddenly pulled the Soldier into a hug. He seemed to be returning the hug, as both men squeezed Francis tightly between them, forgetting his presence for the moment.

When they finally broke the hug, they smiled at each other. Soldier patted Demoman on the back, while Demoman shifted Francis with one hand and wiped his eye with the other. He handed Francis over to the Soldier, who tucked him into the pocket at his belt.

“Let’s get some beers, friend!” the Soldier said, putting emphasis on that last word.

“Let’s do that,” the Demoman nodded in agreement.

Francis sighed, relieved and tired. He needed to lay down after all of this. He was under so much stress and had had no way to cope with it on his own. At least Soldier had a friend, and now the BLU Demoman would not beat the tar out of him so much.

 

The three of them went to a private stock of beer that BLU kept in a shed. Nobody would be by to bother them for a while, and even if they did, the BLU Demoman knew how to grab the beers and pass them out to those seeking alcohol.

The two men had been laughing and talking for the longest time. It seemed like they were really friends once again. The whole ‘I love you’ status had been left behind and any thoughts about it seemed to have seeped away in the alcohol.

After a while, Francis decided to speak up, “I’m sorry to break up this meeting boys, but I need to get on back to the base.”

“What for, Engie?” Soldier asked.

“I want to check up on Scout,” he explained.

“Ain’t that what the doc’s for?” the Demoman asked.

“It’s a…different…kind of checkup,” Francis said, feeling the heavy weight of being put on the spot. The two of them did not need to know about Scout’s little endeavor.

“Alright,” the Soldier got up without another word on the matter, “I’ll take you back to the base. We can hang out again this weekend.”

“We still going fishing then?” the Demoman asked excitedly.

“Yes!” the Soldier said, with a big smile.

The Demoman patted him on the shoulder, “Alright, I’ll see you then. No more charging at me with that damn gardening tool though.”

“My shovel is my best weapon!” the Soldier protested, “And you will keep your meat cleaver to yourself!”

The Demoman gave a mock salute, “Aye. See you on the weekend.”

The Soldier chuckled as he picked up Francis and tucked him into his pocket. He waved to the Demoman as he headed out of the shed, “See you this weekend.”

Soldier walked back to the base in silence. He was happy though. There was a big smile on his face and quite the spring in his step. He seemed exuberantly cheerful after that talk with the Demoman.

“Going fishing this weekend huh?” Francis tried to make some friendly conversation.

“Yea…I’m sorry I didn’t invite you,” the Soldier said, “What with the mud and the water, it’s probably not safe for you.”

At first Francis was going to dismiss it. When he inferred that it was because Francis was a ragdoll he said nothing. This was his life now. No Engineering, no fighting and no fishing. What a life.

“Scout!” Soldier bellowed as they entered the main hallway, “Scout!”

“You don’t have to yell for him,” Francis insisted, “He’s probably in his room.”

“Oh right,” Soldier started down the hall towards the Scout’s room.

When he came to the door he knocked loudly. He waited impatiently, tapping his foot and then knocking some more. There was still no answer.

“I suppose not,” Francis scratched his head, “Let’s um…who can we check with?”

The Soldier shrugged, “I don’t know.”

Francis sighed and accepted it, “How much longer until you head back home?”

“I can stay around a while,” the Soldier assured him, “I even have a room here, remember? I’ll be fine.”

“Yea I remember,” Francis paused a moment, “Alright, if you’ll be alright then I’d like to wait around for Scout. I’m sure he’ll pop up around the kitchen at about dinner time.”

“Alright,” the Soldier nodded, “I’ll bet there’s burger to cook in there.”

Soldier hurried to the kitchen. He set Francis on a counter while he worked on cooking some hamburgers. The man had quite the appetite after the day’s events. He made near a dozen hamburgers and ate all of them in one sitting.

 

They sat in the dining hall. They must have talked for hours while Soldier ate his burgers. They did not really have a goal to aim for in the conversation. They were just talking about everything and nothing at all. The Engiedoll could not remember the last time the Soldier talked so much with him. Mostly he wanted to gab about how happy he was that he had his old friend again.

“I’m real happy for you, Solly,” he said with a smile. He glanced at the clock hanging over the entrance to the kitchen. It was late and it was way past dark. “It’s too late for you to be walking home,” Francis frowned, “But you need to go get some sleep.”

The Soldier stuffed his face with the last of a burger, “Yea. I’m a bit tired now.” He looked up at that clock. “Merasmus would be so mad if he knew I stayed up this late.”

“Don’t you usually regulate your own sleep?” Francis asked, a bit confused.

“Usually, but you know me,” he shrugged, “Sometimes I like to stay up late.”

Francis nodded in understanding, “Yea, well you won’t do well at your work if you stay up any later. You’re going to need your sleep.”

Soldier nodded in agreement, “You’ll need sleep too.”

“I’ll…I’ll be alright,” he assured the Soldier, “I ain’t got work in the morning. I can sleep in if I need to. Besides, I really have to know something from Scout. If you see him, tell him where I am waiting for him.”

“Got it,” Soldier saluted, before marching out of the dining hall.

Francis breathed a sigh and sat down to wait a long while. He grew worried with each passing hour, only realizing that maybe Scout had skipped food entirely at one in the morning.

 

When morning came, Francis was woken by footsteps. He groaned and sat up. He mentally kicked himself for falling asleep on the bench. He should have just gone to Soldier’s room with him for someplace more comfortable to sleep. Instead, he had slept on the hard wood of the bench that went with the table in the dining hall.

A groaning young Scout came tramping in at about five in the morning. He was a complete mess, looking like he had slept in his uniform. He struggled to keep his eyes open as he tramped into the kitchen.

Francis waited there for him to come back. When Scout did not return from the kitchen, he hopped down and hurried into the kitchen himself. He found Scout lazily trying to fix himself a bowl of cereal.

“Since when do _you_ get up so early?” he asked.

The Scout yelped and jumped, looking around for the culprit. He looked around before spotting the Engiedoll standing on the floor. He blinked sleepily.

“Oh Engie!” Scout yawned, “It’s you.”

“Yea it’s me,” Francis nodded, “Why are you up so early? And why do you look like you got dragged through shit?”

“Thanks,” Scout retorted sarcastically, “I was up late at B-”

He cut off and hurried to the dining hall entrance. He checked around for any onlookers or peeping toms, before returning to the kitchen. He seemed very frightened all of a sudden, like he had a serious secret to keep.

“I was up late at the BLU Sniper’s van,” he lowered his voice as he started eating his cereal, “We had a few drinks and a few laughs. Next thing I know it’s too late to be hoofing it back.”

Delight struck Francis, though he was not sure why he felt so giddy about hearing that. Maybe it was finding out that the RED Scout had been the one chosen by the BLU Sniper. That could not have been an easy decision though.

“Oh, so you stayed the night over there?” he asked.

“Yea,” Scout chuckled, with a nervous little smile, “After the BLU found out I wasn’t going to make it back, he made up all these excuses to stick around too. We ended up sharing the couch.”

“The BLU?” Francis gave pause at the nickname. Did he mean the Sniper? But of course the Sniper would stay in his own camper. Unless he usually did not actually sleep out there.

“The BLU Scout,” he explained, “Me, him and BLU Sniper were having drinks, you know.”

“Oh,” was what came out of Francis’ mouth. He gave himself a shake, trying to think of something better to say.

“I’m still trying to adjust to this arrangement,” Scout explain through a mouthful of cereal.

“Mind explaining what that arrangement is?” Francis frowned with worry.

Scout paused to swallow his food, “Oh yea. Right. I didn’t get to tell you about it. So like…Sniper likes the BLU Scout…but he also really had a crush on me too. But like, apparently BLU Scout was also kinda…crushing on me. And they were talking about it after Spy set them up. And like, when Spy brought me over, they were just like dumbfounded. You know?”

“I’m not…I’m not sure I know,” Francis shook his head, “But go on.”

“So, I got two guys crushing on me. Two guys who bonded over crushing on me. So they got this proposal to try it with three instead of two. I’m thinking, this is kind of weird. You know? Not being with two people. Making it three people. Then I’m thinking, what the hell? Why does everybody gotta fit in the same line? I ain’t got a crush on any girls today, so it ain’t like I’m gonna be in some two way homogeneous kind of arrangement.”

“Heterosexual,” Francis corrected.

Scout went on without missing a beat, “So we’re like in this trial period. It’s like…hella awkward but hella neat. I got two guys to bother and they practically trade of wanting to talk to me!”

“Sounds…uh…good Scout! Good for you!” he offered him a thumbs up. He was not actually sure what to do or say about this situation.

“I always admired BLU Sniper, but I guess I never really paid attention to the BLU Scout. He’s got a lot of shit like I do. Like…he likes baseball a lot. He even collects trading cards for baseball. I only got like two of those! He’s got a huge collection! He brought some to show me. Then he’s also got like a big family. Or at least he had a big family. Lots of brothers. We’re both the youngest brother. Kinda weird right? And then I’m thinking, how do I pick between them? Oh yea! I don’t gotta!”

Scout laughed so happily, that Francis was not sure he had ever seen the Scout so bubbly before. There was so much joy that was coming out of him. He just radiated pure joy. If he were to explode, it might just result in colorful confetti and party blowers.

“I gotta thank you, Engie,” Scout suddenly switched the tone of what he was saying, “If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have this. Hell, I couldn’t even bring myself to talk to the BLU Sniper. Guy wasn’t up for letting me near him. You know, us working on opposite teams and all.” He gestured to the red shirt he was wearing. “But if we can make this work out…I dunno…I guess I’m just so happy. I’ve never really had something like this.”

“Not many people have something like that, Scout,” Francis nodded in agreement.

“No, I mean…love…just…feeling like you’re wanted. Needed. I’ve only had two conversations with them so far…but I already really like it. I wouldn’t even mind if we were just friends. They’re really cool. Sniper is super cool. Even cooler than I thought. Have you seen the inside of his camper? You have to see it. It’s so cool!”

He figured if it was anything like the RED Sniper’s van, then he did not need to see it. Then again, the men likely had different interests, so they probably decorated things differently. He probably had an assortment of things that were related to his own personal interests strewn about his camper.

“After ma passed…I haven’t really had a lot of people to call family. All of my brothers either died or ran off to get thrown in prison. None of them talk to me anymore. That is, if they’re even still alive anymore. It’s nice to have people I can talk to. Sniper’s got that older guy vibe going on that’s really sexy. And BLU Scout…he’s kinda like one of my brothers…but like more on my level. You know?”

“I get it, Scout,” Francis nodded.

“I mean…I don’t mean that they’re like…actual family or something,” Scout said defensively, “That would be really weird.”

“Scout, I get it!” Francis exclaimed, “You really like them. That’s…that’s good. I’m glad.”

“Can’t imagine what would have happened if things hadn’t gone that way,” Scout shook his head.

Francis felt heat in his face. Things had nearly gone a very bad way. He was very aware of that fact. He had been very terrified at that time, thinking things were going to go awry.

He took a breath, reminding himself that things had not gone awry that evening, “Things are okay now though. Things went well.”

“You said it!” Scout said, with a big happy grin on his face.

They were both quiet for a while, as Scout chomped on his cereal. In the quiet din of the kitchen, he remembered how tired he was. He had stayed up so late, waiting and hoping that Scout would come along.

“How come you were in the dining room?” Scout finally broke the silence.

“I was up waiting for you,” he answered.

“You were?” Scout blinked at him with surprise.

Francis nodded, “Of course I was!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They bros now!  
> Whoo! Now you know for sure. Scou'ts in the love triangle.  
> Haven't fully decided on all of the characters' relationsihps, so there could be another in the future, but I am doubtful.


	11. With Sniper and the Scouts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Engiedoll spends the after work hours with the Scouts and the BLU Sniper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After rereading this, this one is definitely filler. Nothing really happens. It's more of personal character building.
> 
> Get to learn more about 'Francis' though.

Francis sat with his back against a cool beer. He could not drink it, but the bottle’s temperature offered some relief to the hot day. It was all he could hope for, in such a miserable weather. He was not even sure how his friends’ bodies were able to handle it so well during work.

It had been the hottest day of the year. A heat wave had rolled in and knocked them on their asses. None of them had time to so much as send in a plea to the Administrator for time off, but they did do so after the day was done. It was pretty uneventful, all things considering. The most Francis could tell, most of them were acting more merciful, letting others take a break, hanging back to protect those who were not handling the heat so well, and letting tired enemies limp off to their side of the battlefield.

It was safe to say, the day ended in a tie. Nobody won anything. There was not even anything remotely well played. There were a few deaths here and there, but those could easily be chopped up to being too tired and too hot to defend themselves.

Francis had watched Soldier lumber about tiredly, until he realized that the air was much cooler the higher up you go. He had switched out his shotgun for a parachute, and he rocket jumped into the sky. He shot off a few rockets to make it look like he was doing his job, but mostly he wanted to just stay up there for as long as he could, feeling the breeze against his face.

Francis had been both happy and terrified. He had never liked heights. Being so small, heights just looked even more deadly than before. He was terrified of the Soldier’s weight capsizing on him if somebody shot him down. Much to his surprise, nobody paid mind to either Soldier, as they hung in the air, minding their own business, and relaxing in the little bits of breeze that came by.

Now, propped against a beer in the BLU Sniper’s van, Francis did not mind getting his back wet. The condensation soaked right into his felt and it sent a chilling sensation, as if his bones were being frozen. He did not mind. It was probably just his stuffing getting a little wet. It would dry out eventually.

“Man,” the BLU Scout groaned.

“Yea,” the RED Scout huffed.

The BLU Sniper merely grunted. The man was of little _manners_ , much like the RED Sniper. Though, he tended to smile more and seemed rather happy having the Scouts around his space. Francis’ only worry at this point was that they were not being as cautious about somebody catching the RED Scout in his camper.

“I’m bored,” the RED Scout groaned.

“It’s too hot to play anything,” the BLU Scout returned.

“Beer is my only friend,” the RED Scout tilted his head back to take a few swigs of the cold drink the BLU Sniper had provided. It was a Builders League United brand of alcohol.

“Hey!” the BLU Scout whined, sitting up for the first time.

The BLU Sniper merely chuckled with amusement. He seemed like an onlooker, enjoying the younger two men in his presence. He was more of a watcher than a participator.

“You can be my friend,” the RED Scout eyed the other Scout sideways, “Right now? Beer is my best friend.”

The BLU Scout pouted and started nursing that hurt in his own drink. Both Scouts finished their bottles, but they did not discard of them. Instead, they did their best to drink up the cold of the glass by pressing it against their skin.

“So hot!” the BLU Scout groaned.

“More you talk about it, the hotter you’ll feel,” the Sniper chuckled, shaking his head.

“Not talking about it doesn’t make the heat go away,” the BLU Scout argued.

“Don’t think about it,” the Sniper replied.

“I can’t not think about it,” the RED Scout protested, “It’s everywhere! I can’t stop sweating!”

“Ice cream,” the Sniper stated.

“Man…ice cream would melt everywhere here,” the BLU Scout said, with a breathy sigh, “But I could go for some ice cream right now. Too bad it’s so freaking hot. You need like a big freezer in here to keep cold stuff.”

“Frozen waffles,” the Sniper stated.

“Don’t even pop them into the toaster,” the RED Scout hummed, with a pleasant smile, “Just give it to me frozen! I’ll put that in my mouth!”

“Popsicles,” Sniper added again.

“Cold…mmm…my favorite is the banana ones,” the BLU Scout hummed.

“Me too!” the RED Scout exclaimed excitedly.

“More for me,” the Sniper chuckled, “Snow on your neck from a storm’s wind.”

The RED Scout suddenly shivered. That was when it clicked in Francis’ mind. Sniper was using words of cold things to distract the Scouts from their misery. A clever trick that one could use to make weathering through hot weather easier. Maybe it was something he used to get through sitting in a hot space for long periods of time.

“I can eat the red ones too,” the RED Scout said, with pause.

“I like when the popsicles turn your tongue different colors. Then you stick your tongue out and people freak out!” the BLU Scout chuckled.

“I like my tongue really red,” RED Scout nodded in agreement.

BLU Scout shook his head, “No no. Listen. You use blue popsicles. Turn your tongue blue. Green and pink and stuff, people immediately know what you ate. But if you turn it blue, their first assumption isn’t that you had a popsicle!” The BLU’s giggling sounded menacing, as if perhaps he used it on people before.

“That’s downright mean,” the BLU Sniper stated.

“No it’s not! I do that to my ma all the time! I mean…” the BLU Scout hesitated, “I used to do that to my ma.”

“I hope your ma doesn’t have that as her last memory of you,” the RED Scout frowned.

“No way!” the BLU Scout protested, “I was good and nice to her when I got to see her, in her last years.”

“That’s good,” Francis spoke up. Their heads whipped around to look at him. Apparently they had forgotten that he was there too. “You should have good lasting memories of your loved ones before they go,” Francis added, feeling a bit awkward under the pressure of their eyes, “Did my best when my father passed, as well as when my mother went.”

There was nodding, but the RED Scout made a noise of, “Huh.”

“Huh?” Francis gave him a curious look.

“I never really thought of you having parents before,” the young RED noted, with pursed lips.

“Everybody’s had parents,” Francis argued, “Even ones they haven’t met.”

“Yea but…you never talk about your parents. And you’re like a parent,” the RED Scout argued.

“Well, all parents have had parents. Where do you think grandparents come from?” Francis chuckled at that, “Besides, we never talked that much. Not about my personal life anyways.”

“We talked a whole bunch! What are you talking about?” the RED Scout argued.

Francis could not help but frown. Of course they had talked. Francis had talked with everybody on the team, but they never let him really talk. He was always the listener. Not that he usually wanted to talk about himself. It was more of a situation where he sat down and listened with a kind smile on his face. It never really bothered him until now, realizing that they thought that those sessions were two-way conversations that involved him as more than just a listener.

“It’s not a matter of worry,” Francis assured the RED Scout, “I had parents…long before I joined RED. My father died when I was young. Cancer too him. My mother went while I was in college. She worked herself sick and ragged. Poor woman did her best for me and my sister.”

“You had a _sister_?!” the RED Scout sounded astounded.

The two BLUs shared a look. The Sniper decided to speak up, “Not all people like to talk about their personal lives with everybody. Sometimes they share with you, if they feel you’re special. Sometimes they just sit back and listen to their friends talk.”

The RED Scout frowned. Obviously this bothered him somehow. He looked from the Sniper to the ragdoll with determination in his eyes.

“You know you can tell me anything, Engie,” the RED Scout insisted, “We’re friends, right?”

“Of course, we’re friends, Scout!” Francis replied, “I’m just not much of a talker. I listen more.”

“Doesn’t seem like that,” the BLU Scout replied, “You have like…a neat way with words. The voice too. Even when you’re small, you got a nice calming voice.”

“Thank you kindly,” Francis nodded to him respectfully. He felt a little bashful at that compliment. Nobody had complimented his voice since he went to college, where he had a full head of hair and a chance to flirt with girls his age.

No wait a minute. There was one time. There was a time that he could remember having his voice complimented while on the RED team. It was not quite like this. It was a different time.

 

Francis leaned back in his chair as he wiped the turret head clean. The job was mostly done. He was just making extra work for himself to have an excuse to sit right here. He had an excuse to be right there and talk to the one person who seemed interested in him droning on.

Of course, that thought made him realize how much he was rambling. He must have been talking as much as Scout had before. He gave his friend an awkward smile and a bit of an apology, “Sorry ‘bout my…rambling. I got carried away.”

The Sniper turned his head to look at him over the frames of his yellow tinted aviators. A smile crooked his lips as he looked at the Engineer. There was a kind sort of look in those eyes, changed from the usual killer’s glare he often gave to mercenaries who annoyed him. Those eyes were friendly and welcoming to him.

“No worries, mate,” the Sniper insisted, his body unmoving.

He sat slouched in his chair, with his legs stretched out. He had a relaxed attitude about him, like nothing could bother him. He had barely moved for however long it had taken Francis to both overdo the cleaning process on his turret and yap about himself.

“I could listen to you all day, mate,” the Sniper’s smile grew just a little bit.

Francis felt his face get a little heated, “I don’t mean to be such a bother though. I ain’t usually like this. I mean, Scout knows how to talk. My throat’s a bit weak, I’ve yapped your ear off so much.”

The Sniper gave a chuckle, “You have a nice set of pipes. If you gotta rest them, then rest them.” That made Francis feel even more bashful. He had to look away, turning his attention back to the sentry he was cleaning. “I look forward to listening to you talk.”

 

Francis did not know why he felt so teary eyed all of a sudden. That was a good memory, so why did it hurt so much? Why did it make him want to curl up and cry, while his insides died?

“Hey Engie, are you alright?” the RED Scout got closer, looking at him more carefully.

Francis rubbed his eyes on his arm. It had been a long hot day for him. He was probably overstressed due to the heat. He was still trying to understand how fabric worked with being animate.

“I’m…just tired, son,” he insisted, “Been a long few days. I ain’t slept proper.”

“You sleep? Even as a…a doll thing?” the BLU Scout asked.

“You can lay up on the bed,” the BLU Sniper gestured to the loft area that hung over the cab of his car. It was blocked off by curtains, but he presumed that it was where the bed was.

“Very kind of you,” Francis replied, climbing to his feet. He regretted it a bit, as the warmth settled in on him. The glass from the bottle had been keeping him nice and cool.

Spindly fingers picked him up and carried him to the curtains. The free hand pushed the curtain aside so he could be set atop the down blanket. It was very plush, which made it feel like the softest thing Francis had touched in a long time.

“If you get warm, there’s a fan up there,” Sniper pointed to the white plug in fan in the corner.

“Thanks,” he nodded and waited for the curtain to close.

It was pretty warm up here, and that would bother him too much to sleep. He clambered over to turn on the fan, setting it to a low setting that would not make too much noise. He sighed as he let the fan cool his face.

He rubbed his eyes again. He did feel tired, now that he was sitting on the plush blanket. He laid back and turned his eyes to the ceiling, which had been recently done over with a clear coat of something to keep the paint from chipping off. It looked like it was moist, as it gleamed in what little light there was.

In spite of the bright light outside, Francis found himself falling asleep. His eyes tried to focus on that clear coating overhead, but his mind wandered back to that memory. Sniper missed him, just as much as he missed Sniper. But now he had to see his friend and know they could not be friends again.

 

He woke up in warmth. He could not identify the warmth at first. Why couldn’t he feel the fan? He could hear the fan, as it was turned up loud.

He realized that something was holding him. Something warm was around him. He wriggled a bit to get a better angle, before finding that he was under somebody’s hand, pressed against somebody’s chest.

He wriggled out of the grasp and found himself looking at the RED Scout. He seemed so blissful. What was more was the arm encircling him in turn, as the BLU Scout was pressed up behind him.

He felt a hot flush across his face as he realized that they were cuddling. It seemed like a rather intimate thing that he should not be witness to. At the same time, why did RED Scout cuddle _him_. Maybe he just got carried away while sleepy and thought of him as a stuffed toy to cuddle.

He sighed at that thought. It was fine though. He literally was a stuffed toy. Truth be told, he just did not want to be treated that way.

He walked to the edge of the mattress and sat in front of the fan for a bit. It seemed to blow away all of the heat Scout had put into him. When he felt better, he walked over to the curtains. He opened them to find that the drop below was really high. The only relief being the curved arch of the overhang and the carpet on it to provide friction.

He used the carpet to grip. His feet were at a loss though, unable to grip onto anything. He carefully climbed down, telling himself not to look down.

When he finally got his feet on the ground, the snoring suddenly stopped. He had not even been aware of the snoring. He looked up to see the BLU Sniper waking up and looking around, partially startled and partially wary. He was used to sneaky Spies, no doubt.

Sniper looked at him and then relief hit him. He smiled at Francis, before he rubbed his face. He must have dozed off on the couch when the Scouts retreated to the bed.

“S’late, ain’t it?” the Sniper slurred sleepily.

Francis yawned as he thought about being tired, “I reckon so. Needed some…fresh air. You know?”

The Sniper looked around again, “Them young’uns ran off?”

Francis was a bit taken aback by that. He readjusted what must have happened in his mind. He pointed up the way he came.

“They’re up there sleeping,” he answered.

The Sniper grunted, “Must have dozed off and they went for the fan.”

“Yea, must have,” Francis rubbed his neck.

He felt awkward talking with the BLU Sniper. How long ago was it that they were enemies? How many years had they spent killing each other? How many death induced rage fueled insults had been spewed between the sharp shooter and the turret builder?

“Say um…” the Sniper scratched at his stubbly chin, “I want to say thanks…but it…still feels kind of awkward.”

Francis chuckled, “You and me both.”

“I’m…grateful you helped,” the Sniper pressed, with a genuine smile on his face, “I…wouldn’t have done anything myself. I would have just let it go. I thought it was Spy, but Spy told me it was you. I know…it’s all weird. I’m still trying to wrap my head around it. We’re still trying to figure out things. Still, thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Francis offered an equally genuine smile, “Just as long as you treat Scout right.”

“I’ll treat ‘em both,” Sniper set his hat aside and ran a hand through his hair. He leaned over his knees and rubbed his hands together. “The more they’re here, the more I like them,” he stated, “I feel like I actually have a social life now.”

Francis chuckled, “Anti-social ain’t no way to be!”

“I ain’t anti-social,” the man protested, “Just…never been good at starting a conversation.”

“You strike me as the quiet type,” Francis added.

“Yea,” the Sniper nodded. He paused to look at the screen door. “You wanting outside?”

“Yea…I’m a bit-” Francis paused as the Sniper got up and walked over.

He peeked through the curtain and got a look of surprise. He hesitated, looking in on the Scouts, before he let the curtain drop. He must have just realized that the Scouts were cuddling.

“Sorry mate,” he reached down and picked up Francis, to carry him outside, “Didn’t realize what was going on.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Francis said, as they stepped out into the warm air of the desert. There was not much for wind, but it was clearer out here than inside. Not to mention he could see the moon and stars out here.

“Wanna sit somewhere?” he asked him.

Francis looked around, then spotted the wheel well, “Just set me there. I’ll be fine.”

Sniper nodded, setting him on the wheel well before stepping back inside. He paused with the door open, “If you need back in let me know.”

Francis nodded in response, remaining silent as the door closed. It was warm outside, but it was tolerable, so he laid out on the cool chrome. He gazed up at the numerous stars, trying to remember what he knew about them. He was not much for astrology, but he remembered staring up at these stars with various wishes and dreams in the past.

He wondered how often he must have looked at these stars. They had been the containers for numerous wishes in the past. It was like looking at his past by looking at those twinkling lights.

Looking back to when he was a boy, he remembered a number of wishes. That toy he wanted. That dog he wanted. That puppy he liked. Those kittens that were dying. That girl who kept picking on him. And especially the nights he spent praying for his father’s health.

Then there was high school, when he’d pray for all kinds of miracles. That girl he really liked. That other girl he really liked. That boy who kept picking on him. That group of boys who somehow singled him out to pick on. The science fair he wanted to win. The dog he wanted. His mother’s two jobs. His want for a financial miracle to send him to college.

Then there was that incident with the boys who were messing with him. He remembered senior year, and he had just had enough. They encircled him as usual and instead of taking the insults, he took on the biggest boy and gave him a good wallop. The others tried him and he suddenly realized that he was stronger than the lot of them. Smaller, true. In the long run, his height made it easier to stand his ground, given his lower level of gravity.

That day he went home cranky and with a split lip, and swearing that the only miracles were the ones you made. You had to make things happen for yourself. He remembered telling his mother that, and when she wanted to convince him to keep praying, he just told her off.

It must have been after that, as he remembered, that she got a third job. It was that third job that made it possible for her to send him to university. Once there, he started working himself ragged between work and study. It almost distracted him entirely from her health.

That was the only wish he made on those stars in college. He remembered sitting in the hospital room holding her hand. He remembered the white coats who told him there was no possible care for her. She had over done herself. He remembered selling her house to move her into his apartment. He remembered begging his sister to help, but getting nothing more than wishful “I’m praying for you” cards in the mail.

He spent his evenings with her propped in a wheel chair on the balcony. He sat next to her, gazing upon the stars. They talked of wistful things back then, but silently he had been wishing for her health.

The day she died was the day he had given up on miracles. That was the day he stopped talking to his sister. He never did find out what happened to her. A card here and message there had come his way before he vanished from society.

His miracles only existed in what he could do, and what he could do was only limited by what he knew. He had put himself through every manner of self-torture until he made it through graduate school three times. Twelve degrees. That was a lot to get, but it was enough knowledge to realize that he could do things that nobody else could. Had his mother still been around, he would have been able to reverse engineer that damn respawn machine to put one in her house, just for her.

Realizing this did not help anything. She was long gone, after spending herself on taking care of her kids. After putting him towards his dream, she had worked herself ragged, and all he had had left to do was pray.

That was why he never went to church. He never bought into religious rhetoric. It was all just a ploy, and never fed anything back to the people who needed it most. It preyed upon the desperation of people without a chance. And all the while, those who made money off of it watched the suffering of others through their profits.

He sat up and rubbed his eyes. Dear God it had been so long since he had thought about any of this. Memories were just so uniquely packed into his mind, pressed behind his knowledge and the instincts he had learned from dying and dying over and over. Though, it did make him wonder if there was a chance that dying permanently would have meant meeting his mother again.

No, that was probably not the case. Heaven was a hoax. He would have remembered such a sight if he came back from it. He had been dead for months, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep getting asked about Engiedoll getting a relationship.  
> 1) have patience. If he jumped into something it would take away from all of the other stuff going on  
> 2) Not everybody wants a relationship.
> 
> Also I hope you're taking notes on how different the Snipers are, because Francis sure is.


	12. Cat Chase!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Engie gets chased by the cat again!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how I ended up pounding out two chapters in one day like this. I guess my creative flow might be coming back to me.

Francis was startled from his thoughts by four feet. He slowly looked over to see that a cat had hopped up onto the lower rim of the wheel well. She was looking up at him, with big golden eyes. She was crouched low, with her feet shifting as she readied. Her eyes widened a hair at the moment he looked at her.

The moment she launched herself was the moment he slipped from the wheel well. “Help! I need some help!” he cried out, hoping Sniper or one of the Scouts might hear his call. Sniper had promised to let him in after all, and the man must have good hearing.

Much to his relief, he was right. The door flung open and the Sniper came outside. He was late to grab the cat as she snagged a hold of the Engiedoll. He howled in pain as her talons stabbed into his felt. The claws tore into him and ripped out a few stitches.

“You drop it, nasty cat!” the Sniper growled, giving the cat a shake. The cat yowled and turned her claws on the Sniper. She bit down on him and he thrust his hand out with an exclamation of pain.

Francis hit the dirt with a loud grunt of pain. Everything hurt and he wished he could throw up. Let it be over and done with. The cat happened to drop on top of him and her mouth went around his neck.

Terror struck, but his attempts at escape were useless as she took off. He could barely hear the Sniper’s shouting fading away as the cat fled. He screamed in terror and pain as his legs dragged across the ground and his neck threatened to split at the seams.

 

He did not know where the cat brought him. It was definitely intent on playing though. He tried to stifle his cries and stop moving, but every little whimper and every flinch just made her excited.

She batted, scratched and bit him. She dragged her around to other places, then she hid him in a dirty hole. She came back to play, then she left again. Unable to move, eh could only sit there and wait for some form of death.

Death never came, but the cat came back with something dead. She ate it, smearing blood around that got onto his felt. Unable to move his arms and legs due to the stitching being torn apart, he found himself at a loss as to what to do about the blood and dirt that got kicked in his face.

This was it. This was how it ended. That was what he figured, anyways.

Then she pulled him out of the hole to play out in the sunshine. Nice to see the sun one last time, he thought. He might as well enjoy that sunshine and drink in the memory of having spent the previous day with his friends.

“What you got there?” the voice came before he heard the boots.

That familiar voice was calming, but it disturbed the cat. A hand caught her before she could flee though. She was lifted off of the ground, his body dangling from her mouth with one claw in his half disassembled leg.

“That’s a bad kitty,” the Sniper’s fingers opened her jaws and caused the Engiedoll to fall. The cat tried to catch him, but she was too busy purring as she hung from his clutch.

Luckily he landed face up. He got a good look at the Sniper as he gently held the cat by her scruff. He looked at the cat, holding her like that until he was sure he had gotten all of the stuffing out of her mouth. She was purring too, not upset by the man’s hold as she had been by the other’s.

“That’s not for cats,” the man croaked through a dry throat.

He set her down on the ground and she bolted. He watched the cat go, before he started picking up the pieces of the Engiedoll. He turned him over, looking at all of the damage.

“Pyro’s gonna be real unhappy if I show him this,” the man frowned.

He shuffled towards his camper, something Francis had not noticed being nearby before. He brought the Engiedoll inside and set him on the table. He pulled out his kit from before and started digging around.

This process took longer than before. This time the Engineer had more places torn up and had much more to recover from. It was not just the seams torn. He had to have stitches up his belly like a large scar. Apparently even the back of his head had been torn into and required stitching. His felt was cleaned up and his insides stuffed with fresh new cotton.

He could not help but cry. The whole time he was not making much noise, but he did not fight back the tears. Everything hurt.

Being torn up hurt. Being pricked with a needle hurt. Being stuffed hurt. Being alive hurt. Thinking about everything from the past hurt.

Staring up at his friend, he could not help but miss those days they used to spend together. He would sit with the Sniper and talk for hours. They would share a few laughs and have a few beers. Sniper would tell him about his adoptive parents and the Engineer would tell him about his mother’s passing.

“It’s done,” the Sniper finally set him aside, “You can stop crying now.”

He could not stop crying. He could not physically bring himself to just stop. Everything just hurt and the hurt would not go away.

“Why are you still crying?” the Sniper asked.

“Can’t stop,” Francis sniffled.

“Why not?” the Sniper quipped, “Just stop crying.”

“It hurts too much,” Francis whimpered with a shudder.

“I’ll buy it,” the Sniper replied, “You did get shredded pretty badly this time around.”

“Not that,” he rubbed his palms on his eyes, glad that he could finally move, “Th-thank you for…stitching me back up though. I do appreciate it.”

“I didn’t do it for you,” the Sniper growled.

“Right,” Francis pulled his knees up against his chest and hugged them. He tried to drown his tears against his legs, but it was difficult to not make noise.

“You’re starting to sound like a woman,” the Sniper barked.

 

That took Francis back to a different time. It was sometime early in their friendship, but after they had established that they were somehow close friends. Close enough to tell things to. They were close enough to reveal secrets to each other.

“Drunk ain’t no way to be on the battlefield, son!” the Engineer turned to the Sniper, with a stern shake of his finger.

“I’m fine,” the Sniper replied, shrinking back with a snarl.

The man obviously did not want to be scorned about his bad drinking habits, but Francis was not letting up. There was no beating around the bush with this one. If the Sniper was drinking alcohol before, during and after work then he was hurting his health and his work simultaneously.

“You keep this up and you’ll be in a coffin faster than I can whip your butt!” the Engineer said pointedly.

The Sniper spat into the dirt, “That a threat mate?”

Francis got the feeling that the Sniper was regretting telling him this secret. Still, his alcoholism was room for worry. He had to do or say something.

“I’ll go through respawn again and be fine,” the Sniper added as an afterthought.

The Engineer shook his head, “That just ain’t right! Look, son. You’re a support on our team. We’re a team here. We do our best to help each other as we can. If you’re drunk then you’re not much for help. Being a drunk makes you unable to take care of yourself. Just look at this!” He gestured to the Sniper’s poorly washed clothing and the mess of bottles around the camper. “And if you can’t take care of yourself, how are you gonna take care of anybody else?”

“You’re starting to sound like a woman,” the Sniper barked.

 

Francis started laughing. Damn it felt good to laugh. That memory always did make him frustrated before. Now he could laugh about it knowing the man had kicked his habit and lessened his drinking habits.

“What’s so damn funny?” the Sniper growled angrily.

“Ah…I was just remembering something,” Francis could not help but smile.

“Keep it to yourself then, little freak,” the Sniper growled.

Francis frowned up at him, “You used to be an alcoholic.”

“So?” the Sniper went on defense, “What of it?”

“I was remembering the time you told me,” he explained.

“No, I told the Engineer,” the Sniper argued.

“Yea, you told me,” Francis replied sternly, “And you said the exact same thing.”

“What?” the Sniper glared at him, “What did I say?”

“You’re starting to sound like a woman, is what you said,” Francis answered, glaring back up at him.

“Just because you remember his memories doesn’t mean anything,” the Sniper growled.

“It means I remember my memories!” Francis got to his feet, angry tears welling in his eyes. He felt so weak and tired. He just wanted to lay down and rest, but he was not backing off on this.

“You want to be a little shit,” the Sniper got to his feet and picked Francis up by his back. Weirdly enough, the Sniper was able to pinch the felt like a scruff, as he carried him to the door. “You can go be a little shit elsewhere!” he tossed him out the door to land in the dirt.

Francis turned just in time to see the door slam shut loudly. He winced at the loud noise. It was like a gunshot going off beside him.

He picked himself up and dusted himself off. He did not need the Sniper’s attitude. He did not need to be around the man if that was how he was going to be.

Of course, the glint of dark glass had to catch his attention. He walked over the camper to find that a whole stash of emptied beer bottles had been left under there. If he was finishing them off faster than he could get rid of the bottles, then there was definitely a problem.

His anger wore off and became replaced with worry. His old friend had turned back to drinking himself into madness. It was a wonder he had yet to be discovered by anybody else. Then again, as he remembered, nobody else seemed to really pay as much attention to the RED Sniper as _he_ did.

“I’ll have to come pay him more attention,” he got a glimmer of an idea, “For now, I should let Scout know I’m alright.”

He made his way from the camper towards the base. He kept a wary eye out though. No way was he going unprepared either. He kept a shard of a broken bottle with him, to fend off any stray cats that came to use him as a toy.

When he made it to the base, he strolled through the main hall. It was so big at this perspective. Looking around, he realized just how terrifying this place could be. He could barely remember the first time he saw the inside of a base, but he did not remember being frightened.

“Ah! Hello little Engineer!” the Medic’s voice was almost jarring as the man suddenly appeared.

He took a step back, then smiled up at Medic, “Howdy partner.” He waved a hand in greeting.

“You are just in time to see what I’m working on!” the man’s eyes were alight with excitement and joy.

“Not just yet,” the Engineer popped out of the infirmary, drying his hands on a rag. He smiled and waved at the Engiedoll, before turning his attention back to the Medic. “Look doc, you’ve been at this for a while now. Why don’t you go take a break. I’ll stand by and make sure nothing bad happens.”

“No no, I should really get back to work,” the Medic insisted.

“Seriously, doc,” the Engineer gave him a gentle push away from the infirmary doors, “Go get something to eat. Go sit down. Have a rest. Drink a beer. Have a chat. Look, you can have a chat with the Engiedoll.”

Without much more prompting, the Medic stepped towards the Engiedoll, “Well…how do you feel about a chat in the dining hall?”

“Sure,” Francis nodded.

With a smile, the Medic turned on his heel and headed to the dining hall. Francis was left spinning for a bit, as for the first time in a long time, somebody had assumed he could walk there on his own. It felt good but he kind of missed getting to places quickly. He had to run to get to the dining hall in somewhat decent time.

When he reached the kitchen, the Medic was already busily making himself a sandwich. He started talking with him, as if nothing had even changed. He did not even seem to notice a size difference, glancing down at Francis as he might have if Francis were still alive.

Francis did not talk much. He mostly just listened. That was all he needed, was to listen to the man get out all of his excitable energy. By the time he was halfway through his sandwich, Medic seemed to realize how tired he was. He finished his sandwich and quickly cleaned his dishes, before excusing himself to go lay down.

Francis watched him go with a sorry frown. The poor man was working himself ragged as usual. And per usual, he forgot that he needed rest. Poor Medic.

Just as the Medic stepped out of the dining room, Scout came in. He glanced over his shoulder at the Medic, then threw his thumb as he turned to the Engiedoll, “Doc’s looking a little under the weather. Is he okay?”

“Yea, just tired,” Francis assured him.

Scout blinked, then did a double take. His eyes opened wide and his mouth became wider, “ENGIE!” He rushed towards Francis and picked him up into a hug. “Oh my God! I’m so sorry! I thought you were a goner! Sniper said you’d been taken by a cat!”

“Yea, I’m alright Scout, I’m okay,” he assured him, gently patting the hand holding him.

“God! I have to go tell Sniper and Scout!” Scout exclaimed, “They were worried sick!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More hints to Engineer.


	13. Inspired

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merasmus is inspired to give Engiedoll a gift.  
> Francis is inspired to help everyone he can find a new level of happiness.  
> The BLU Soldier...is an asshole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man it took me a while to finish this one.  
> Here it is! I hope you enjoy.

After settling things with Scout, Francis managed to get back to Soldier. Not that he had been in a hurry to be away from everybody, but he needed a break. Getting passed around, chased by cats, and tossed around without consideration was getting got be too much.

In the comfort of Merasmus’ tea room, it was easy to forget about all of those troubles. He almost even forgot the cat incident and getting stitched back up. Almost. This pleasant room was nicely lit, with the sun shining through the window onto painted glass cups. Everything was neatly arranged, and most of it was adorned with a flower of some sort. It was a very cute kind of room. He smirked when he thought of the fact that Soldier lived in this house, or rather castle.

“Heh, you probably have a hell of a time keeping Jane out of here,” he noted with a chuckle.

“No,” Merasmus shook his head.

Since they were not in the presence of the Soldier, they were free to call him by his name. Soldier had left that morning, allowing Francis to roam around the castle and relax for the day. He found himself accompanying Merasmus, with the intention of getting to know his buddy’s love.

“Jane’s different with me,” Merasmus insisted.

“I’ve only ever known the man as loud and violent,” Francis chuckled.

“Well, he still is,” Merasmus admitted, “It’s just…different.”

Francis leaned back on the candlestick behind him and attempted to fold his hands over his belly. Oh yea, no fingers. That was an awkward reminder of his life’s predicament.

“He can be loud, obnoxious and very pushy. He’s also funny, ridiculously proud, and does care. I think it’s when he remembers that he cares that he takes the time to be gentle and quiet,” Merasmus smiled at the chrome back of a spoon, “Majority of the time, he’s boisterous, but you haven’t seen what he can be when he’s with me.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” the Engineer put up his hands defensively.

“So,” Merasmus hesitated, turning his eyes to look at the ragdoll Engineer, “How has live been as a ragdoll?”

Francis hesitated at that. He had not expected to be asked how he was doing. Maybe it was the first time somebody asked how he felt about all of this. It felt good to be cared about in that way for once.

“Honestly? It’s worse than being the stupidest cow to be hit by a tractor,” he admitted, with a sullen sigh. Not much he could do about the feeling of being undermined, under everyone’s feet and underappreciated. “Being this size makes everything more difficult. Not having no bones makes falling less of a problem, but fabric and cotton tends to rip and ruin easily.”

Merasmus gestured to him with his spoon, “Ah. I noticed your…odd choice of seams.”

“Not choice,” he winced, remembering how the needle felt in his back, “I was put back together after a cat got me.”

“I see,” Merasmus set his spoon down and sipped his tea again. The resounding silence was suddenly killing the Engiedoll. Merasmus set his cup down, “I noticed your mouth doesn’t have a lot of movement.”

Francis flinched at that. Was that true? Was his mouth barely moving? He touched his face, unsure of what he could do to make his speaking more apparent.

Merasmus scratched his head in thought. He was staring at the ragdoll. Suddenly, his eyes lit up and he reached for his staff.

Oh boy, Francis thought. It had not taken him long to realize that Merasmus was a much more toned down version of the Soldier. The man tended to act before he thought about something. It made sense, given how often things did not go the way the wizard was expecting, when it came to battles.

With a smooth gesture, the wizard bopped him on the head with the end of his staff, then set the staff back in its place. It seemed like nothing had happened, other than what would have been a massive concussion, if not for the lack of a skull. Francis rubbed his head and thanked his stars that he did not have any bone there.

“What did you do that for?” he demanded, a bit irritably.

“Here,” Merasmus picked up one of the cookies meant to be paired with the tea, “Have a cookie.”

Francis took the cookie, then looked up to the man, “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but with this mouth, I can’t eat. Not to mention the stuffing in me could do without cookie crumbs.”

“Just give it a try,” Merasmus rolled his eyes.

Francis looked at the cookie, then tried to bite. He was surprised when he tasted the crumb he had taken. His eyes widened in delight of the flavor before finally swallowing.

He touched his face with astonishment, “How?”

“It’s magic, why are you questioning it?” Merasmus grumbled.

“Because it ain’t logical,” he turned to look at his reflection in some glass. He looked just the same as he did before. When he opened his mouth, it was just a section of his face that opened, but did not seem to lead to anything. It was just a sort of space in his face.

“Magic is not logical,” Merasmus explained, “That’s why it is called magic. Otherwise it would be a science.”

Francis absentmindedly chuckled at that, distracted by his reflection. Having a mouth like this was a little disturbing. Still, now he could eat things.

“Should feel a little more human now,” Merasmus commented.

Francis looked at his cookie, before taking another bite. He swallowed before he spoke, “I don’t think I’ll feel more human until I have my friends back.”

 

He spent four days at Merasmus’ house. They had pleasant dinners with the Soldier, and many laughs over jokes. If he watched carefully enough, Francis thought he _could_ see a different side to the Soldier.

He was softer. His smile was fonder. His hands were gentler. His voice was quieter. Probably most especially, he had eyes trained on Merasmus most of the time.

That was certainly a special kind of love. To mellow somebody out like that, and make them into a better person just by sitting next to them was an amazing thing. It was no wonder putting the Scouts and the BLU Sniper together was such a good thing. They probably made each other happy just by spending time together.

It was after the fourth day that Francis decided to go back. It was time to try again. This time, he was going to put forth more of an effort. If there were other mercenaries who could be made happy, then he would find them a place of happiness.

He stayed at the base this time. He would not go into battle looking to get burned to death or anything. He was not unarmed though, taking a trowel with him wherever he went. It was just a tool for gardening, but he had seen the Soldier use a shovel effectively in battle. Maybe beating a cat on the head with a trowel was just what he needed to stay safe.

When the day was over, BLU had apparently won the match. He took that as a deterrent for visiting the Sniper for today. The Medic too, as he would be busy dealing with end of the match wounds. In fact, everybody would be in low spirits, so he might as well give them their space.

BLU team on the other hand would be a happy bunch of men. That was what struck him with the idea to pay a visit to the BLU Sniper. He would need help getting there, so he went to Scout’s locker in respawn.

“Oh hey, Engie,” Scout grumbled. He looked like he had taken a real beating. “I’m not…feeling up to chatting or anything today,” he mumbled. He glanced around to make sure nobody was listening. “I’m probably just going to go to Sniper’s camper and hang out with them.”

“Mind if I come with you?” he inquired.

“Um…we were kinda…we made plans…” Scout hesitantly.

“I just need a ride,” Francis insisted, “I’ll be out of your hair as soon as we get to the BLU base.”

“Oh…right…you and BLU Spy are pals now, huh? Knock yourself out,” Scout grabbed his pack and held it out.

He apparently wanted the Engineer to get in. Once Francis was settled, he stuffed a few items of clothing from his locker into the bag around him. Francis shifted, trying to get comfortable while being stuffed in a bag.

“You planning a sleepover?” Francis teased with a chuckle.

“Y-yea well…” Scout’s face was blushed red, “Um…we actually planned this time. We’re gonna hang out tonight. No work tomorrow, so we can sleep in or whatever.”

“That’s nice,” Francis nodded in agreement.

“Think I’ll show Scout how to draw,” he explained as he lashed the bag to his back.

“You’ll make a great teacher,” Francis replied.

“Don’t have to joke,” Scout replied, a bit heavily in his tone.

“I’m serious,” Francis insisted, “Your artwork is really good. If you showed it to them, they’d be impressed.”

“I…I did show them,” Scout said, as he headed out of respawn, “I showed them my work the other day, and Scout asked me to teach him. I left my sketchbook and pencils in the camper so I can just go and draw there.”

“That’s a good plan,” Francis settled in for the ride to the camper.

 

When they reached the camper, Francis found himself invited to a small get together. The two BLUs were sort of celebrating the RED Scout’s talents with the sketchbook. They seemed to just glaze over the fact that Francis was there when they gawked and cooed over the nude pictures.

The BLU Scout was eager to try drawing people this way. He apparently wanted to draw both the BLU Sniper and the RED Scout. He excitedly chattered with his RED counterpart, trying to absorb everything he could about drawing.

Sniper on the other hand was sitting back studying the pictures. He had this cocked smirk that spoke of how confident he was. His self-esteem must have been soaring through the skies over those pictures.

At some point, he remembered that the RED Scout wanted this get together to be somewhat personal and private, so he eventually excused himself. He headed out the door, trowel in one arm, and marched towards the base. Not that he had a plan once he got in there, but he could probably meet with a few friends.

The hallway was as big as the one in the RED base. It loomed over head, as if he were walking into the gaping maw of a whale. The smell was rancid though, settling in the simile of a whale’s gut.

“What is that?” he groaned to himself, covering his face where his nose would be.

An explosion answered him. Curious as to what it might be, he followed the general direction of the noise and came to a slightly open door that led to some stairs. Smoke was pouring out of the crack.

It was dangerous to go running into smoke, but knowing he did not need to breathe made the thought pointless. He pushed the door open wider to let out more smoke. Maybe it would get teammates’ attentions anyways. He then hopped down the first step, taking the flight of steps quickly. His primary thought was that somebody must be down here, which meant they would need help.

He soon heard the coughing and sputtering of a man he could not see. As he got to the bottom steps he started to get a better look at the boots and pant leg. The closer he got, the clearer it became that this was the Demoman’s workshop.

The Scotsman was seated at his desk, frantically waving smoke out of his face to no avail. The smoke was so thick that the man was going to choke to death. Given that there were at least three bottles around him, it was safe to say that he was not in his best mental state to be doing this kind of work. He probably had just enough liquor to have the confidence to sit there in the thick of the smoke.

“Demoman!” he cried out, hoping to get his attention.

He was relieved when the man looked at him and immediately recognized him, “Aye! Engineer! What-” He had to cut off for a bout of coughing. The poor man was close to suffocating in this smoke.

“Demoman, you need to go upstairs out of the smoke!” he called to him.

“What? I’m a devil’s bloke?” the man gave him a stunned expression.

Taken aback but not deterred, Francis tried again, “You’re going to choke!”

“You want a smoke?” the Demoman replied, obviously confused.

He gave up on shouting and went over to the Demoman’s leg. He tugged on his pant leg and pointed upwards. Demoman picked him up and raised him to eye level.

“Let’s go outside and have a couple beers,” Francis suggested.

At that easy to understand request, Demoman nodded and grabbed his half full bottle. He set Francis on his shoulder as he stomped up the stairs and headed outside by the shed where BLU kept their liquor.

“What were you doing down there, son?” Francis asked.

Demoman itched his ear, “Sorry mate, my ears are still ringing. I can’t hear much of what you’re saying.”

“Alright then,” Demoman grabbed a few beers from the shed and then tromped over to a makeshift bench of broken plywood. He set Francis down beside him and cracked open a couple of bears.

When he set the bottle down next to the Engineer, the problem became very apparent very quickly. He was not dumb enough to try and drink it, though he did stand up to see if he could get any kind of leverage with the bottle. He ended up pouring a small amount into the little cap to gulp down before filling it again.

“I think my ears are clearing up,” the Demoman rubbed his head.

“Good to hear,” Francis said, gulping down his second cap, “Maybe you could enlighten me a little as to what you were doing when that explosion happened.”

It was nice to taste beer again. It was nice and it…was bad. Beer tasted bad. Why did he ever like beer? It tasted nasty, but out of habit or maybe because of Demoman, he kept on drinking it.

“Oh…just trying to make new bombs…and I must have…I must have mixed things up,” Demoman took a swig of his beer, “Think I mighta been distracted by something.”

“Ain’t safe to be working with explosives when you’re under the influence of an alcoholic beverage,” he noted.

“I ain’t drunk yet,” the Demoman laughed.

“I’m serious,” Francis insisted, holding a grave expression.

“It was but one lousy drink!” Demoman rolled his eye.

“I saw three bottles in there,” Francis argued.

“Okay, so I had a bit of the bottle,” Demo shrugged, “So what?”

“Demoman!” a loud voice screamed from the base.

The Demoman sighed, “Sounds like it’s time for me to get to work.”

“Hmm? But tomorrow there’s no work, and the round is over,” the Eniedoll replied.

“True, but that don’t matter to these boys. Soldier always got hair brained ideas and Engineer always needs m’help,” the Demoman explained, “They’re both probably working on something and Soldier’s messed up.”

“Heh, so you’re friends with both Soldiers?” Francis smirked up at him.

“Hell no!” the Demoman frowned, a bit angrily, “That man’s insufferable! We weren’t friends before and we aren’t friends now! But for some damn reason he’s decided that he needs to involve me in all of his plans!”

“Why don’t you just tell him no?” Francis asked.

“I’ve tried that mate, but he keeps on demanding!” the Demoman sounded desperate.

He sighed, closing his eye to drink up the moment of quiet. When his eye opened, he was looking over at the door to the base. He was going to end up going in there and humoring the two men who tended to harass him.

“Just say no,” Francis repeated.

The Demoman blinked at him. He had a sleepy kind of look in his eye. It was almost like he was so tired of the song and dance he had to deal with, with the BLU Soldier.

“I’ll show you,” the Demoman suddenly said, “I’ll tell him no, but he won’t take it.”

“Don’t say a darn thing,” Francis insisted, “Just sit here and be stubborn about it.”

Demoman eyed him sideways. He glanced at the door and sighed. Francis watched him, trying to gauge his emotions.

“Alright,” the Demoman conceded, before taking another swig of his brew.

Francis sighed with relief and turned back to pouring some beer in a cap to drink. They were in relative silence for a while. It was a pleasant kind of silence, of two friends enjoying beer together.

It took Francis back to the time when they were fighting machines. The BLU Demoman had stayed to fight with them. He and the RED Soldier had become near inseparable. Francis would humor the pair from time to time and they would even play cards while drinking beers.

“Demoman! I expect you to respond!” Francis looked over to see a pissed off Soldier in blue marching towards them.

“Ah, here we go,” the Demoman sighed, as if this was a thing he had experienced before. This was maybe a regular thing for them.

“Demoman! When you are summoned for duty, you are expected to report for duty!” the Soldier stomped right up to the Demoman and put a finger close to his face, “Now I am not going to waste my breath on a miserable whelp like you, but you had better get your damn ass into that building and get your butt to work, mister!”

The Demoman glared him right in the eye, “No.”

“No?” the Soldier looked confused at the defiance. Maybe Demoman was not as stubborn as he thought he was before.

“You heard me,” the Demoman growled stubbornly, “I told you no.”

The Soldier did not give him time to react, grabbing him by the front of his vest and throwing him onto the ground. The Demoman landed with a loud painful grunt. He quickly turned over to look up at his assailant.

“Real men do _not_ shirk their orders!” the Soldier roared.

“You are not the boss of me!” the Demoman struggled to his feet.

The BLU Soldier lifted his foot to kick the Demoman square in the chest. He fell back and became pinned under the boot. Still, he glared up at the Soldier with fury in his eye.

“Hey now! Knock it off!” the Engineer called out to the Soldier.

“You stay out of this, porkchop,” the Soldier gestured dismissively.

“Porkchop?” Francis flinched, taken aback.

Demoman raised a leg and kicked the leg the Soldier was standing on. He yelped as he lost balance, and his foot moved from the Demoman’s chest. The Demoman did not hesitate to use this opportunity to get up off of the ground, he hurried to his feet and put up his fists.

He was just in time as the Soldier regained his balance and charged him with punches. Demoman went on defense, using his arms to block the strikes. Each one struck his forearm, and each one seemed to hurt. He grunted with the pain, but never removed his focus.

Francis thought back to every other time he had seen the Demoman fight. He rarely saw him fight hand to hand, man to man, but he was always so focused. How he managed to do it with liquor in his system was beyond the Engiedoll.

Focused or not, the Demoman _did_ have a few drinks, and when the beverage affected his thinking, the Soldier took advantage with a right hook to the other man’s jaw. Demoman spun, unable to stop the momentum of his body. He fell face first onto the ground.

“Demo!” Francis called out with worry. He climbed down off of the plywood and headed over to check on the Demoman. He went to his face and found that he was passed out, but at least he was breathing.

“Spoils!” the Soldier announced, before grabbing Francis.

“Hey! No! Wait!” Francis squirmed, but found himself trapped in the thick strong fingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BLU Soldier does not see things the way the RED Soldier does.
> 
> For those who are trying to keep up but need a refresher:  
> Merasmus x RED Soldier  
> RED Scout x BLU Scout x BLU Sniper  
> RED Soldier & BLU Demoman are bros for life
> 
>  
> 
> I don't know how BLU Soldier and RED Demoman came out as being assholes. I'll get to them later.
> 
> Also, now Francis can eat! Yay! Where does it go? We'll never know.  
> (I've been trying to figure it out by watching reruns of the cookie monster, to see where his cookies go, no results yet)


	14. The Light in Medic's Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Demoman beats the Soldier and gets Francis back. He heads on down to the infirmary to see the Medic, whom Francis has not seen in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter changed directions fast.

Francis wasted no time in biting down on the hand that grabbed him. He had not forgotten that he had a mouth now. Only, he did not realize that he did not have any teeth. At least, he did not seem to have any teeth that affected the man’s skin. There were not even marks left behind.

“You son of a- Get back here!” the Demoman had regained consciousness and was wheeling after the Soldier.

The Soldier barked a laughed and took off running. The Demoman charged behind him, trying to catch up. It turned out that the Demoman was pretty darn fast when he wanted to be. He flung his body right into the Soldier, causing him to fall down.

Francis cried out in terror as he was sent tumbling across the floor. He turned just in time to look at the Demoman on top of the Soldier. The Soldier was laughing, almost maniacal as he took a bit of a beating from the Demoman. He did not feel horrified by the beating, just the fact that the Soldier was laughing as he got his face beat in. The man certainly deserved the beating, from Francis’ perspective.

“The hell are you two morons doing?” the BLU Engineer’s voice travelled down the hall.

Francis got to his feet and cupped his hands around his mouth, “We need a dispenser here!”

“Ah hell,” the BLU came running, looking around warily for somebody. When he did not find what or who he was searching for, he reached down to grab the Demoman and pull him off of the Soldier. “The hell is wrong with you two? You fight like cats and dogs!”

“I wouldn’t hafta beat his face in if he weren’t such a dog!” the Demoman spat, brushing off the front of his safety vest.

“You’re a menace to this facility when you don’t take orders!” the Soldier got to his feet and straightened himself up.

“Just put up a dispenser,” Francis requested, approaching the Engineer’s boot.

The Engineer grabbed his shotgun, “There’s a Spy creeping around here!”

“Ack! No!” the Demoman bent to pick up Francis. His fingers were not very gentle as he dusted the doll off, but Francis appreciated the thoughtfulness. “It’s just the Engiedoll.”

“Heh, he talks to dolls now,” the Soldier snickered.

“Whatever you two are up to, stop it!” the Engineer barked.

At the Demoman’s height, or at least how high his hands were held, Francis could get a better look at the other two mercenaries. The Soldier looked rather beaten and time worn. Age was showing, despite what the effects of respawn should have done for him. The Engineer on the other hand was looking like he had not been doing so well. He might have even been sick. Add that he was jiggly and overweight, the man seemed to have given up on properly taking care of himself.

“I am busy having a drink with a pal,” the Demoman growled, “I ain’t here to pander to your wonton needs, Soldier.” The Demoman turned to the Soldier as he spoke, but the other BLU seemed to be ignoring him.

“You might…uh…wanna see the doc,” the BLU Engineer patted the Demoman’s back, “Just…talk to him about this…friend of yours.”

Demoman looked between the two mercenaries with hesitation. Francis looked up at him curiously, wondering what he might decide on. He figured the man might try to be stubborn again and stomp out. It is what he would do.

“You know what? Talking to doc would be better than the lot of you!” Demoman spun around and stomped off towards the infirmary.

Francis felt surprised, “Wait, are we really going to the Medic?”

“Eh,” the Demoman shrugged, “Couldn’t hurt. The man’s in need of company. Besides, he’s good company.”

The moment that the Demoman stepped inside, the Medic did a double take then sprang to his feet. Francis watched as the man put on the biggest smile and flashed the brightest set of white teeth. His hands busily tried to straighten his clothes and hair, as if to impress.

After everything Francis had seen thus far, something seemed rather clear to him. He decided not to say anything about it, since he had made mistakes before. Besides, maybe that was just the way he was. Though, he did not remember him that way.

“Demoman! Nice to see you!” the Medic said cheerfully, his eyes alight with excitement.

“Yea, Soldier and Engineer were getting to me. I thought you could use some company,” the Demoman explained nonchalantly.

“Please! Have a seat!” the Medic pulled out the chair from the opposite side of the desk as his own chair.

The Demoman took the seat without any question. The Medic happily made sure that he was comfortably seated, before returning to his own chair. His whole disposition was remarkably cheery. It was eerie, but Francis felt like it just added evidence to his theory. He felt his heart beating faster and faster with the need to tell Demoman his thoughts.

“It’s good to see you, my friend!” the Medic added as he situated his chair back into a straight position.

“You weren’t busy, were ya?” the Demoman asked, with a slight hint of guilt in his tone.

“No no! Please! I…I have nothing going on at all!” the Medic insisted with a nervous sort of chuckle.

Francis could not help but smile. This man was absolutely bubbling for the Demoman’s attention. He must have been truly excited to be around Demoman. And what was the one thing that Francis knew about those men who liked being around each other a lot. The thought made him especially giddy with the secret theory.

“What’s all that then?” the Demoman gestured to the man’s paperwork on his desk.

There was a lot of it. There were four even stacks laid around the desk. Each one seemed bigger than the last. Francis wondered if the RED Medic had this much paperwork to do, or if he just got it finished quickly.

“Hah! This? Oh…this is just…paperwork,” the Medic blushed, but gestured dismissively, “I can finish it later, no problem! Don’t worry about it! I have time for my friend!”

Francis could practically hear his heart pounding in his ears. This man was so deep. The sensation drove Francis mad with the desire to just shout what he was thinking.

Then he got distracted by the thought about his heartbeat. Since when did he have a heart? He put a hand to his chest, seeing if he could feel it beating against his rib cage.

“Tell me, what did those idiots do now?” the Medic asked. He folded his hands on the desk and kept his brightly lit eyes on the Demoman.

“Ah you know,” Demoman shrugged, “I’m having myself a drink. Soldier’s calling me to help. He comes stomping out, and I tell him no. So we got in a bit of a tussle. Tried to take the Engiedoll. Fucker almost got away too. Then the Engineer just went off on me about hanging out with talking dolls.”

The bright expression changed to confused and immediately shifted to concern. The brows furrowed while the eyes slowly moved down to the Demoman’s hands. That was where Francis was, looking back up at the man with a smile. He realized that this could be a problem, and he should clear it up before there were any misunderstandings.

“Do you…talk…with the Engiedoll…often?” the Medic spoke with hesitation.

“Nah,” the Demoman shrugged, “First time hanging out, before Soldier ca-” He smacked a hand over his mouth as he was speaking. He suddenly realized that he was talking about being friendly with the RED Soldier, and only a few more words would have done him in.

“Soldier? Uh…what were you about to say?” the Medic asked with a worried frown.

Francis cleared his throat, “I can help with that.” He gestured to Demoman to lift him higher.

Demoman nodded and placed him on the desk. When Francis turned back to the Medic, the stunned man was staring at him with a look of utmost horror. He must have been in great shock. His jaw was almost dangling.

“You can stop gawking doc,” he insisted, “I may be a ragdoll, but I’m still alive. Bit of Merasmus’ magic did the trick. I was just having a few drinks with Demo when the Soldier came storming out.”

“I see,” the Medic was a bit pale.

“Doc, maybe some water?” Demoman suggested.

“Right,” the Medic hurried from his chair, stumbling towards the sink. He took a plastic cup from beside the sink to fill it. He took a drink, then poured some over his head. Then he took another drink, before returning to his chair behind the desk. “Now, where were we?”

“I was explaining to you how Demo’s not crazy,” Francis stated.

“But you…you’re…you sound like the…late RED Engineer. I suppose it makes sense considering your _attire_ ,” the Medic was about to start rambling.

“Just relax a bit,” Francis insisted, raising his hands. He did remember how this Medic tended to get worked up, “Take a breath.”

“It’s…um…” Medic looked to Demoman, “How did you handle seeing him alive like this?” He gestured to the Engiedoll passively.

The Demoman shrugged and itched his nose, “Eh. He was just there. We got to talk a bit. It was like old times.” Demoman smiled to himself, probably remembering how he made up as friends with the RED Soldier.

“I…can’t even comprehend how you’ve taken to it so easily,” the Medic pressed.

Demoman shrugged, “Was easy. He’s just there. He exists. It’s a thing now. Oh hey! That reminds me! Turns out Merasmus isn’t the Merasmus that took my eye!”

“What?” the Medic was reeling from the change of subject.

“Yea! Turns out there’s different Merasmus’ around,” the Demoman explained.

“I don’t…” the Medic was definitely still reeling, “I don’t see how that is possible. What do you mean?”

“I think it’s more like a title than a name,” Francis answered.

“Sounds about right,” the Demoman nodded in agreement.

The Medic adjusted his glasses, “I um…I see.” He hesitated, looking between the Demoman and the Engiedoll.

“I would get out of your hair, but between the BLU Soldier and the cat that’s been roaming around, I think I’m safer with other people,” Francis said, rubbing his neck.

 

They must have spent a good two hours there. Demoman and Medic jabbered like old friends. They mostly forgot he was there, just sitting and listening. The two were so excited to talk to each other that it made the Engiedoll feel a bit happy.

At some point, the Demoman excused himself to “powder his nose” and Francis was left alone with the Medic. The man seemed a little awkward, trying his best not to make eye contact. He had been so sociable and excited before, seeing him like this was odd. Not to mention how much of a beast he was on the battlefield, goading on his teammates and laughing at enemy deaths.

“So um…” Francis tried to think through his words carefully to break the ice with the doctor, “You enjoy talking with the Demoman, yea?”

“Oh yes…” the Medic chuckled nervously.

Francis took a deep breath, “Listen. I know it’s…strange. But um…I’m just here as a friend. And I really am alive. I’d like that to be clear.”

“Okay,” was the Medic’s simple answer.

Francis paused for thought. Medic was acting so nervous, after having been so excitable with the Demoman. Had he still not gotten over the Engineer being a ragdoll?

“I really _am_ here as a friend,” he insisted.

“Okay,” the man said again.

Francis stood up and walked toward him, “I would like us to be friends.”

The Medic blinked at him, “Really?”

Francis nodded, “Yes of course! We used to work together for a while, doc. You were not quite so…well…skiddish? As I remember…you were much more fierce than this. What happened? Are you still spooked about me being alive?”

“Th-that,” the Medic stammered, “And uh…I have…unresolved feelings…about this.”

“Like what?” Francis pressed.

“I uh…” the man hesitated, glancing at him, “Oh I don’t know. It’s silly!”

“No it ain’t,” Francis pressed. When the doctor did not answer he pressed further. “Look son, I’ve been tossed around, kicked, beaten, scratched, shredded, stitched up, nearly turned inside out, and there ain’t nothing anybody can do that can surprise me now.”

There was a long silence. He could see it in the Medic’s eyes that he was debating with himself. The strain in his hands as they wrung together was beginning to worry Francis.

“If I tell you, will you promise not to tell anybody?” the Medic pleaded.

“Alright,” Francis put a hand over his chest, “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

Medic chuckled awkwardly at that, “Let’s hope not.”

“Just tell me. I won’t tell a soul,” he insisted.

“I’m…uh…homosexual,” his voice lowered to a whisper so quiet he almost did not hear him.

Hearing this was so trivial. Having met so many men who liked other men made it something of a commonplace. It seemed so absurd that it made Francis laugh.

“W-w-why are you laughing?” the Medic started to panic.

“I’m sorry,” he forced himself to stop laughing, but could not stop shaking from it.

“You swore that you won’t tell anyone!” the Medic pointed a finger at him. His eyes were wide with terror.

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” Francis held up a hand, “Scout’s honor. I won’t tell a soul if you don’t want me to. You don’t have to hide so much from people though.”

“Yes I do! Do you realize what a mercenary would do to me if they found out?! What would you do to me if you were my height and human?” he asked, looking fearful.

“I’d put an arm around your shoulders,” Francis spoke softly, “And tell ya that it’s alright. You like what you like. That’s a fine thing. You don’t have to fill in the shoes of somebody else’s expectations. Beside…” He started chuckling, shaking his head. “There are worse things.”

“You say this like it’s so easy to accept,” the Medic folded his arms over his chest defensively.

“It is though,” he insisted, “It truly is. You haven’t seen what your teammates have been getting into.”

Suddenly the doors opened and the Medic started acting nervous again, “Oh! Hahaha! That’s a funny joke! I forgot what a great sense of humor you have, Herr Engineer!”

The Demoman chuckled, “Sorry I missed it.”

“I uh…um…” the Medic swallowed as he tried to breathe correctly.

“Sorry to ditch out, but I’m going to town for supplies. I won’t be back ‘til late. I’ll take the Engineer off of your hands.”

“Oh…I will see you…er…um…later then?” the Medic gave the Demoman a hopeful smile. It made Francis’ heart soar a bit.

“Of course, mate!” Demoman waved in farewell with one hand and took Francis with the other, “See ya!”

 

“Alright, I’m going to town, so unless you wanna make that trip with me…you’re going to have to go somewhere,” the Demoman told him, “I can’t leave you to bother Medic. He always says he can do the paperwork later, then lets me distract him.” He sighed at himself. “I need to stop distracting him so much.”

“I think he’s old enough to make that choice,” Francis jested.

“Still,” the Demoman pressed, glancing around, “Were to?”

“Can you make the trek out to the BLU Sniper’s camper?” he requested.

“That I can do,” the Demoman nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I did say this would stay a fluffy story. It will - for the most part.  
> There is going to be a twist to this ending. To make it end right...there's going to be some pain towards the end. It will still not be related to the overarching company stuff (that's staying in the background) but it might be...harsh.  
> That will not be for another few dozen chapters, but still. Heads up on the pain train.


	15. Visiting the BLU Camper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BLU Demoman learns the Scouts' and BLU Sniper's secret.  
> Francis recounts how he came to be and why he exists.

Demoman brought Francis to the Sniper’s camper van. The man was laughing loudly about something when he reached to knock on the door. Before his knuckle touched it, it cracked open.

“Demo? What do you want?” the BLU Scout was barely peeking out.

“He’s just brought me over,” Francis waved.

“Um…” the Scout hesitated. The door closed for a second, held just shy of clicking into the mechanism by the young mercenary’s hand. He peeked out again, “Um…uh…we’re kinda…indisposed.”

The Demoman stared at the crevice in the door with an incredulous look, before he burst into a loud raucous laughter. He was having such a good time of it, he even smacked his leg.

The Scout shyly closed the door until it clicked. Poor kid, Francis thought. Then again, now he was thinking about what they were probably doing. They were probably in the middle of something…intimate. That thought made his face heat up.

The door banged open as the BLU Sniper came right out of the camper and down its one step. He was fully dressed, unlike how Francis had imagined, and looked like he was about to start thumping heads in.

“Find something funny?” the Sniper growled.

The Demoman tried, but was unable to stop laughing. He was kind of breathless. He stumbled, looking for something to lean on, until his hand found the Sniper’s chest. Francis was afraid he had just stumbled himself into a fight.

“He’s not laughing at you!” Francis proclaimed, hoping to quell a fight before it started.

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry…the lad…he was acting like a little school girl!” Demoman clapped the Sniper’s shoulder, trying to take deep breaths all the while.

“You got a problem, Demoman?” the Sniper growled.

His hat was pulled low and his eyes were narrowed. His voice was scarier now that it went to a growl. Francis had never thought the man was actually scary, after years of realizing that he was not as powerful as the stereotype of Australians made him out to be, but the way he looked now was fearsome.

“Just…uh…” Francis looked at the man laughing, whose shoulder he was perched on. If he was still laughing at the Scout, maybe he deserved a punch in the face.

“You got something to say?” the Sniper got in the Demoman’s face.

Of course the Demoman was hardly cowed. He merely laughed more and smacked his back. “Good on you, lad!” the Demoman laughed, “Good on you!”

As Demo smacked his back, the Sniper took on a very bewildered expression. His hat fell out of place, and his eyebrows shot up. It was definitely enough to get him to hesitate on the punching idea.

Suddenly, the RED Scout popped out of the camper. It was one second too late for him to back pedal, with the BLU Scout reaching out to pull him back in, because the Demoman had already spotted him. The man gave a low whistle as his eye took in the two younger mercenaries before turning to the Sniper.

“You be good to them, mate,” the Demoman patted his other shoulder.

It was less hearty, there was no jolly laughter. This time, it was a genuine concern for friends. This time, it felt like he was happy for them.

That begged the question of whether the Demoman even understood what all of this was. Francis considered that possibility, and figured it might be a better chance, considering how he was. He had had a crush on the RED Soldier, so it was not a far throw for him to easily see other men’s affection for each other.

“I’m just here to drop the wee Engineer off,” he plucked Francis off of his shoulder and set him on the Sniper’s shoulder, “I’ll be out of your hair and on my way. Want anything from town?”

The Sniper was now quite rouge with embarrassment. The Scouts had retreated into the camper, so as not to be spotted by other BLU mercenaries, but they were well within sight. The embarrassment they shared was very clear.

“No thanks, mate,” the Sniper finally replied, with his calm and chipper voice.

“Right, I’ll leave you all alone then,” Demoman waved as he started back towards the base.

The Sniper silently turned and stepped into the camper. The two Scouts moved out of his way, their glances jumping between him and each other, before the BLU Scout finally decided to close the door. They seemed rather jittery now.

“That uh…that was close…” the RED Scout finally spoke up. He was rubbing his arms and shifting on his feet.

“Think we could have used better warning,” the Sniper replied.

“Yea, or maybe just…don’t answer the door for Sniper,” the RED pointed to his BLU counterpart.

“I wasn’t thinking! I’m sorry!” the BLU Scout threw his hands up defensively.

“Shouldn’t bring other mercenaries to the camper,” the Sniper turned his attention to the ragdoll Engineer.

Francis cringed, feeling guilty himself, “I…I wouldn’t have brought him, if I didn’t know better. I wouldn’t have brought him if he could have outed you.”

“He still could have outed us!” the BLU Scout exclaimed, “God, I feel so stupid!”

The Scout plopped on the couch and buried his face in his hands. He looked much smaller than he did before. Curling up and trying to make himself disappear in a sense. Thankfully the Sniper sat down beside him and began rubbing his back.

“I promise you, Demoman means no harm,” Francis insisted.

“Look Engie,” the RED Scout picked him up off of the Sniper’s shoulder and set him on the table in front of the couch, “I know you think you’re a good judge of character, but it’s not like you haven’t made mistakes before.”

Francis felt a twinge at that dig. Okay, so he had made mistakes. Everybody makes mistakes. It is not a far fetch to think that somebody would make one or two mistakes regarding peoples’ behavior.

“This is kind of…I don’t know…I thought you would have known,” the RED Scout gestured between the three men, “Most guys…they don’t get us. We’re men. We’re not supposed…we’re not supposed to feel like this.”

Francis took a deep breath, “Son, if you had come to me before my death, I still probably wouldn’t have understood it. Hell, I barely understand it now. As much as I’m okay with this, I probably would have suggested alternatives in the past. What the head knows and the heart wants don’t mix though. And-”

“Engie,” the RED Scout interrupted him, “Is there a point to this.”

“There is,” Francis insisted, “It’s that…I never would have been forced to face things if I weren’t this.” He gestured to himself and his felt stitched body. “I came back smaller, weaker, and unable to do what I love to do. What I know I can do and what I want to do are very different things. Now…now I’m stuck here…like this.”

He ignored the pain in his chest. He had not thought too much about it, but he had to admit that he missed working. The feel of a wrench in his hand. The groaning ache in the muscles from a hard day at work. The satisfaction of seeing a machine function properly after being assembled.

“Uh…I hope you mean like…work stuff,” the RED Scout said hesitantly.

Of course the kid thought he was talking about intimate things. He sighed and rolled his eyes. Sure he was not thinking of intimate things like others were, but it sure would have made him happy to work at a forge again.

“When I came back, I was forced to confront reality pretty quickly, and it’s a reality people weren’t telling me about. You talk and talk about things you care about. But none of you say these things, because you think every other man is out to destroy what you care about. Jane’s with Merasmus, and I think it makes sense. Maybe it would not have made sense before…but…seeing how his eyes light up makes it…make sense somehow. I’m not sure how to explain it, but I saw his eyes light up, his behavior change, and his devotion on his sleeve.”

“Who is Jane?” the BLU Scout interrupted.

“Lady from the bookstore, Jane?” the Sniper asked.

“No no,” Francis mentally kicked himself for giving away the Soldier’s name. If they used it, the man would no doubt be embarrassed or angry. “It’s uh…it’s the RED…Soldier’s…name.”

“Wait, the RED Soldier’s name is Jane?” the BLU Scout exclaimed.

“Solly’s with Merasmus?” the RED Scout looked absolutely bewildered.

“Sounds no less traitorous than anything _we’ve_ done,” the BLU Sniper quipped snidely.

“There ain’t need for talk like that,” Francis said sternly.

“No seriously,” the Scout holding him pressed with concern, “Are you serious about Solly? Is the Soldier really with Merasmus?”

“Hell, why do you think I’m here?” the Engineer asked.

“Uh…I dunno,” the RED Scout shrugged, revealing that he had not really thought about it.

“Explains why he lives with that old hag,” the Sniper jested.

“Merasmus is…Merasmus turned out to be friendlier than I would have thought,” Francis explained, “Not the nicest guy, I don’t think. We’ve talked though. Reason he tolerates me is the same reason I’m alive.”

“Which is?” the RED Scout pressed, impatiently.

“So Merasmus _is_ the reason you’re back as a ragdoll?” the BLU Scout asked.

“You want me to tell you or not?” Francis barked at them.

The RED Scout plopped down on the other side of the BLU Sniper, still holding Francis. All three of them had fallen silent though. The Scouts were paying attention to what Francis had to say. The Sniper’s attention appeared to be on the BLU Scout’s back.

“So…well…I don’t think he was thinking of anybody else,” Francis admitted, “But everyone has been acting rather weird about my…death.”

“I’ll say,” the Sniper growled, “RED’s been a blood thirsty cretin since I got back.”

“Hey!” the RED Scout exclaimed.

“No, not you,” the Sniper used his other hand to rub the RED Scout’s back, “RED Sniper.”

“Oh…” was all the RED Scout said.

Francis decided not to comment. He would just move on with the story, “Solly got out of sorts and Merasmus decided to try and fix things. I wasn’t around to see what he did, but a bit of magic and now here I am. A ragdoll.”

“Why didn’t he just like…get Soldier counseling?” the RED Scout asked.

“No offense,” the BLU Scout added, as if they were having the same thought, “It’s just that it’s a lot of effort to go to for Solly being extra-Solly.”

“He did seem a lot different since you got back though,” the RED Scout added, “You sure he’s not sweet on you?”

“I’m sure,” Francis nodded, “Everybody wants to love and be loved, but everybody needs a friend. I think you three can be good friends, but Solly needed me. I was who he talked to all the time. I didn’t get to know about his relations before all of this, but I was supposed to be a lifeless doll to help comfort Soldier in grieving.”

“Now he’s not grieving anymore, because you’re back,” the RED Scout replied, nodding, “Wow…didn’t realize that’s why you just sort of appeared. Everybody was saying it was Merasmus’ magic, but I figured it was unrelated.”

Francis opened his mouth, just as a knock came at the door. The tension that hit the air was like a guitar string being pulled. Tighter and tighter it wound as the four of them remained silent. It could have snapped at any moment.

That snap came in the form of the BLU Soldier’s voice. The man bellowed and banged on the door loudly. The resulting metaphorical twang of the broken string made all three of them wince. Francis was done hearing that man’s bellowing anger.

Silently, the BLU Sniper rose slowly from his seat. He gestured to the RED Scout as he peeked out of the window over the sink. The gesture moved towards the bed, shooing the RED out of sight.

Panic struck Francis as he realized just how terrified they must have been before. The Demoman coming over to greet them and finding them all together must have been terrifying for them. It was multiplied by the terror that Francis knew of the awful BLU Soldier. That man could fuck off.

The RED Scout was quiet as he slipped up onto the bed. He was as cautious as he could be, but he could not avoid making the trailer rock a bit with his weight. The BLU Sniper stomped a bit, covering the motion to trick the BLU Soldier into believing the Sniper had climbed down. The BLU Scout pulled the curtain across the bed to hide the RED, leaving the two of them isolated.

From there, much of what was said was confusing. He could hear the Soldier from time to time, because of his yelling. The most he could make out was that he was looking for the Demoman.

“I wish people would just leave us alone,” the RED Scout breathed.

Francis had a feeling he was not meaning for it to be to him. It was just a thought spoken aloud. Still, it felt like Scout blamed him for all of the interruptions of the personal time with the BLU Scout and BLU Sniper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been really hard to write lately. Most of my works haven't even been updated in about a month or more. This one had to be on hiatus for near two weeks because of work. I'm rested now and back on a schedule for writing.
> 
> I have had a lot of time to brainstorm and a lot of time to make new ideas.
> 
> I decided that I won't be tagging any of the other relationships. Part of the fun is guessing who might match with whom, so I'd like to leave that out of tags so people can just enjoy the ride. I will be adding some other tags though, please check tags if you are sensitive to certain content. This is related to some recent ideas and changes to the finale of the story.


	16. Call Out

Francis found himself spending the night alone in the RED Scout’s room. The Scout had gone off to stay in the BLU Sniper’s camper. When he returned the next morning to avoid the BLU Soldier, he did not look very rested.

“Didn’t sleep well?” he asked, as Scout entered the room.

“Sniper’s bed isn’t meant for three people,” Scout yawned, “So much for sleep.”

Francis hopped down from where he was perched, “Mind letting me out? And I don’t just mean out the door. I’m not safe with that cat around.”

“Sure, I need food anyways,” the Scout nodded, rubbing his eye.

He scooped up the Engineer and headed to the mess hall. Surprisingly, everybody was gathered there. They did not all seem to be there for breakfast. Some of them were talking amongst themselves, trying to decide why they had been called here.

That begged the question. Who called them here? Francis looked around, trying to take a head count of each person. Medic and the Engineer were present. Soldier was sharing a bit of toast with Demoman, while Demoman laughed at something the Pyro seemed to be saying. Spy was spreading jam on his own toast. Heavy was twiddling his thumbs, looking rather irritated to be called into the dining area during a day off.

The busy aura of the room made Francis feel conflicted as to what he should ask. Scout was just as confused, but he got right into talking with the others. Not that he was asking the right questions though. He seemed more interested in getting some of that jam and toast.

Francis sat down somewhere in the middle of the table. He was near enough to Scout, but also nearby Soldier to hear what he was up to. Him and the Demoman were jesting quite a bit.

He had not even seen the Sniper stroll in, until he got their attention with the loud thunk of his kukri going through the end of the table. Everybody looked on in silence, with a few frowns at the new hole in their dining table.

Heavy was the first to voice concern, “Sniper! Why you do this? This is nice table. Why you break breakfast table?”

“I’ve got beef with the lot of you,” the Sniper growled low. Francis remembered that growl. It was the lowest tone, and was almost scarier than the BLU Sniper’s voice.

Sniper pulled his kukri from the table with an easy yank. Everybody watched him in silence, eyes never leaving him as he settled into a relaxed stance with his weapon now in hand. His eyes glanced over them, taking them in with a seething anger that seemed to pool as a fire in his eyes.

Those eyes came to land on Francis, boring into him. He stared back, unable to look away. If he looked away now, it would have revealed how scared he was anyways. He was already watching the Sniper, so he might as well sit there and stand his ground.

He almost breathed a sigh of relief when those eyes left him. The gaze moved away, hovering over other mercenaries. Still, he was silent, patiently waiting for somebody to react to this.

“Would you just tell us what the hell crawled up your ass and died!” the Scout barked.

The Sniper’s sharp glare landed upon the younger mercenary, eyeing him like he was the next kill, “I’ll get to you, piker.”

“Sniper!” the Demoman barked, “Put up or shut up, what’s going on?!”

“I won’t take insubordinate behavior in this base!” the Soldier roughly poked the table with a finger pointedly.

“I’ll get to you too,” the Sniper pointed his kukri at the Soldier.

At that, Francis got to his feet, “Don’t you go around pointing melee blades at people when you ain’t even started explaining yourself yet!”

The Sniper gave a little smirk and pulled something out of his pocket. Francis regarded it carefully, trying to assess what it might be for. The closest he could guess was a remote or a PDA. It was something to control something else from a distance.

With the press of a button, two voices started up. They were not coming from somebody else though. Strangely enough, they were coming from inside of Francis. He searched for the source in frantic confusion, trying to figure out what was going on. It did not take a genius to realize in the first moment that it was Soldier and Merasmus’ voices. They were talking to each other in a fond manner. Francis remembered this conversation. It was something they were talking about over breakfast at Merasmus’ place.

“What the hell?” the Demoman blinked incredulously.

“You have a recorder in there, son?” the Engineer pointed to the ragdoll, but his question went towards the Scout.

“The hell? I didn’t know about a recorder!” the Scout exclaimed.

“I didn’t either!” Francis exclaimed, “I didn’t have a recorder in me!”

The Sniper gave a snicker and pressed another button. Suddenly it was three people talking. RED Scout, BLU Scout and BLU Sniper were talking about what they should do for meetings from now on. This was the conversation from yesterday, before the RED Scout brought the ragdoll Engineer to his room.

Francis looked around in a panic. He had no tools to do anything to the recorder. There was nothing he could do about it. It just kept playing as the Sniper wanted it to. He could tell that it was making the Scout panic more, as his face turned pale.

“You’re homosexual?” the Demoman finally turned to the Soldier, with his bewildered expression.

“Your little ragdoll has been pretty busy,” the Sniper flicked a button and the voices changed to the BLU Demoman and the BLU Medic, happily drinking and talking. They were clearly not the Medic and Demoman present at this table.

“What is this?” the Heavy pounded a fist on the table, “Little ragdoll Engineer goes to enemy team?”

“It’s-” his mind raced for something to say. What could he say? How could he escape? He was never good at lying, and if he tried now, he would fail and look like an even worse person than ever before.

“Scout’s been betraying us with the BLUs!” the Sniper interrupted them all, “And Soldier’s been running off to Merasmus.”

“We all knew he lived there, Sniper,” the Medic argued, apparently emotionally unaffected by this information.

“I could have expected something like this from scout, but you?” the Engineer gave the Soldier a concerned look.

“What the hell are you trying to do?” the Demoman was talking to the Soldier, “Are you really fucking him? What kind of man are you? Here, I thought you just lived there cause it’s nicer than the base! I didn’t think you got your pecker wet too!”

“Scout, you hate the BLU Scout,” the Medic said, “Why would you ever associate with him?”

“Let alone-” the Engineer cut off with a disgusted shudder.

“Little men have been running around with enemy team? Why?!” the Heavy bellowed, apparently mostly concerned that the team was not keeping to their side of his war.

“What I do in my private life is none of your business, private!” the Soldier poked the Demoman’s chest.

“Fuck off! It’s not like you’re any better!” the Scout gestured rudely at the Medic and Engineer. He was still very pale though.

“You are going off with the bloody wizard! That’s fucking disgusting!” the Demoman scooted down the bench, away from the Soldier.

He ended up pushing the Spy down the bench. The Frenchman did not look interested or amused by all of this. He looked like he just wanted breakfast.

The Pyro stood up and grabbed his flamethrower. Why he had that with him in the dining room was beyond Francis. In fact, he was pretty sure they had banned weapons in the mess hall a long time ago. So much for that.

“Pyro! Sit down and put that down!” the Heavy got up and pointed to the Pyro. He never was very good at getting Pyro to calm down when he was riled up. He was more good at intimidating people, but only because he was not good at soft talking.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” the Medic demanded of Scout.

“What do you mean, what’s that supposed to mean? You two run off and lock yourselves in secure areas all the time! Don’t think nobody’s noticed!” the Scout threw his hands up, gesturing with exasperation, “If anybody here _didn’t_ notice and _didn’t_ know what was going on, they’re idiots! And it’s not like it has any effect on my job!”

“That’s irrelevant!” the Medic spat.

“That ain’t what we’re doing!” the Engineer turned red.

“We’ve been working on a science project!” the Medic declared.

“Oh suuuuure!” the Scout replied sarcastically.

From there, the arguing got louder and louder. Francis could not follow anything. It was chaos. It was panic. It was like a seed of doubt was all they needed to become wild and vicious animals. No amount of Francis shouting got their attentions either.

The blast of an ambassador hit the ears and caused the entire room to go silent. Everybody turned their heads to look at the Spy, who now stood above Pyro’s head. He was still chewing on his toast as he slowly holstered his pistol, hiding it within the confines of his suit.

Sniper regarded him with wary eyes. Spy returned the look, wary and distant. He finished chewing and finally addressed his teammates.

“All it takes is for one man to get angry and you all turn into animals!” the Spy shouted in outrage.

Francis felt a bit surprised. It was rare that the Spy expressed anything. Finally expressing anger was a change he had not been expecting.

“Scout’s fucking the enemy!” the Demoman exclaimed.

“Little Engineer doll is friends with enemy team,” the Heavy added.

“Soldier is in cahoots with Merasmus,” the Engineer added.

The Spy was silent for a few moments, regarding each member at the table. Finally, his eyes came to the ragdoll. They were always cool and calculating. Those grays were not like the BLU Spy’s eyes.

“I think many of you forget that we were here when the machines rolled in,” the Spy went on.

Francis almost gasped when he remembered. The RED Spy had been there when the robots came in. Unlike the BLU Spy, he was always silent, always in the background. He was always jus there. His contributions always seemed small, almost amounting to nothing.

“Many of you have forgotten what it is like,” the Spy went on, moving away from the bench so he could circle the table. He moved away from the Sniper, moving towards the other end.

“What? To miss the enemy? To fight day and night against machines?” the Sniper growled, “I remember that much.”

“Many of the BLUs went home. May I remind you, so did many of our comrades here,” the Spy went on, walking slowly with precise steps. Every footstep was a clip sound that hit the ears in a precise and rhythmic fashion. “You all act like this is all news,” he went on, “And you forget that the Spies already know.”

Spy halted at the end opposite of the Sniper, so that he was opposed to him. He put his hands behind his back, holding up his posture with square shoulders.

“Are you going to reveal that you too have an affair?” the Sniper inquired, with a haughty snicker.

“Sniper, what is your problem?!” Francis turned to the Sniper, feeling outraged. It was bad enough that his friend did not like him, but now he had turned into a monster towards his own team.

“Enough,” the Spy interrupted, before the Sniper could speak, “We’ve had enough of being riled up for an off day.” He regarded his teammates again, as they stared at him. “Our team would become divided if we fight, and our team must remember that they were our team before you came back.”

“I was here,” the Sniper growled, “I was here through it all.”

“Yes, and so was I,” the Spy replied, coolly.

“That BLU Sniper wasn’t here,” the Sniper looked to the Scout, “Neither was that BLU Scout.”

“Leave Scout alone!” the Soldier barked.

“And you!” the Sniper turned to the Soldier without missing a beat, “Running off to the man who made hell even worse!”

“Literal hell,” the Demoman muttered.

“You don’t know him like I do!” the Soldier snapped, getting to his feet.

“And none of this would have happened,” the Sniper changed the topic easily, “If he hadn’t brought this little piece of shit here.” He gestured to Francis on the table.

“I didn’t cause anything!” Francis protested, standing his ground. Just because he was small did not mean he would be so easily pushed around.

“Scout wouldn’t be running off with BLUs. BLUs wouldn’t be intermingling with REDs,” the Sniper argued, “There are plenty of other recordings. Even one with that BLU Demoman and Soldier here.”

“Stupid BLU,” the RED Demoman growled.

Soldier turned on him, grabbing him by the front of his clothes and shook him, “Don’t talk about him like that! He’s a good man! Better than you’ll ever be!”

“Soldier!” Francis cried out, but his voice was quickly drowned out by three others that rose.

He was sure that control had been lost of the room, until it all went silent. It just took the click of the hammer. The gun was raised, pointed towards the ceiling. The Spy pushed the hammer back into its place as he lowered the weapon.

“Demoman, you were gone,” the Spy said, “When you were gone, the BLU took your place here. He was on our team. So were others.”

“He’s not anymore,” the Sniper growled.

“Is it so much to infer that perhaps in the decades of this life that a healthier thing for many of us is to accept another side of things?” the Spy asked.

“It’s our job to kill BLUs,” the Sniper growled.

“Like it was our job to kill robots. Like it’s our job to destroy skeletons,” the Spy nodded in agreement, watching as some of the others finally sat down, “But, it’s all we have. We can’t leave. There is no leaving anymore.”

The room seemed to go completely silent. They quietly waited for him to continue talking. He started around the other side of the table, opposite of where he started.

“Whatever plans we had back in our hay days, those are gone and over. Whatever we thought we would be doing now, that’s long gone. Our identities, scrubbed. Our lives, taken. We have nothing more than to work here, and that…that in itself is very terrifying.”

“I’m not afraid,” the Sniper growled.

“I’m not scared,” Francis heard the Scout echo under his breath.

“But you _are_ ,” the Spy replied, “Or at least you were. All hope seems lost and all we have is what is here.”

He stopped right in front of the Sniper, so the two were facing off. They seemed like two coyotes, ready to fight over the same piece of meat.

“Why the show?” the Sniper teased, with a sudden smirk, “Putting on a show for something?”

“Somebody needs to put you in your place once in a while,” the Spy said haughtily, “And I’m done pretending.”

He pulled a file from his suit and plopped it on the table, “If any of you has anything bad to say about another, then consider what’s in your own file.” He turned to the table, watching as the others considered reaching out to try and take the file.

It was a huge file, with papers falling out of it. It seemed too massive to be for one person. It must have contained information about each person in it. That was more likely. Then again, this was the RED Spy, he could probably find this much dirt on one person alone.

“What’s this?” Francis slowly approached the file, with no intention of opening it.

“I’ve been watching the team very closely,” the Spy said.

“So spying?” the Scout said in a jesting tone, hoping to lighten the mood, “Nothing new.”

“Each one of you has secrets,” the Spy poked the file, both to gesture to it, and to use the violent gesture to ward off those who thought about opening it, “All it takes is somebody to open this file and you _all_ have to live with your dirty mess.”

“What about you Spy?” the Sniper growled, approaching the table.

The Spy grinned at that, revealing how clever he thought himself, “What dirt would I ever have that hasn’t already been cleaned?”

“You threatening us to silence?” the Medic asked, peering cautiously at the file, “With some dirt we don’t even know about?”

“Something like that,” the Spy picked up the file and slipped it into his suit.

“Maybe you don’t have dirt,” Heavy said, “Maybe you are bluffing to make us be quiet.”

“Maybe,” the Spy shrugged, then leaned closer to the Heavy’s ear. With his lowered voice, it would have been hard to make out what he was saying. It took Francis a minute to realize that he was speaking Russian.

As the Spy spoke, the Heavy’s face changed. He went from mildly annoyed to stricken with fear. His face paled and his hands began to shake.

“Any other cowards want to try and call my bluff?” the Spy asked, with a gentle and flowy gesture of the hand.

“You don’t scare me, spook,” the Sniper growled, “I’ve got nothing to hide. Anything you have in there can and should be opened and shown to the rest.”

“Perhaps,” the Spy shrugged again, moving closer to the Sniper.

“Engie,” the Scout whispered to Francis. He turned and followed the beckoning gesture he made. “What’s going on?”

“I think Spy’s just trying to make the point that we all have dirty secrets and we all do things that the rest of us would not like,” Francis explained.

“Yes,” the Spy gave him a nod and the kind of smile the Spy seemed to regard as a reward to teammates with good behavior.

Francis took a breath and decided to move on with what he was saying. Good judge of character or no, Francis knew a lot about these guys. The more he thought about it, the more he realized they would not have gotten along if half of them knew what the others were doing. And that was what he knew before his death.

“Medic thinks the Soldier never brushes his teeth and that his breath is rancid,” he gave as an example.

“I brush twice a day!” the Soldier declared angrily.

“I can smell your breath from here!” the Medic spat.

“Half the men here regard Demoman’s drinking to be a health and work hazard,” he went on.

“My drinking got nothing to do with nothing!” the Demoman slammed his fist on the table. Nobody said anything about it though.

“Scout regards Sniper as behaving crudely,” he went on.

Sniper merely grunted in response. Scout glared back at him. The two seemed to be having a glare off.

“Soldier still has his friendship with the BLU Demoman, or at least their friends again,” Francis added.

“You and that bloody BLU?” the RED Demoman regarded angrily.

“Better friend and better man than you!” the Soldier growled.

“Sniper thinks everybody talks too much and they should shut up more,” Francis added. Sniper merely chuckled at that. The rest just got angry. “Heavy considers Spy work to be busy work. It doesn’t contribute the same amount as others’ work.”

The Spy glared at the Heavy. The Heavy shrugged back at him, not caring to matching him glare for glare.

“Pyro has a creepily bright hued collection of stuffed dolls and animals,” he added.

The Pyro made an indiscernible noise. He thought it might be embarrassment or something.

“Medic does experiments without acquiring consent,” he glanced at the Medic, who suddenly had to fend off a bunch of angry gestures and remarks.

“Like any of you haven’t done your work without ever stepping on somebody else’s toes!” the Medic spat defensively.

“And Sniper?” Francis got the man’s attention, “Whether you believe I am who I am or not. Francis always regarded your work as chaotic and self serving.”

Somehow, that shocked the Sniper to silence. He did not have a snicker or a grunt for that. He just look hurt and shocked. It was like those words were a sucker punch.

“What was the point of spilling these tidbits of dirt, Engineer,” the Spy growled.

“Simple,” Francis replied, looking around at the team, “You all have dirty secrets. You’ve lied, you’ve cheated, and not a one of you has a damn reason to trust the next. We’ve spent decades here trusting each other and working together. Pretending you’re a Saint while publicly executing another ain’t going to accomplish anything more than hypocrisy. We’re all stuck here. We’re all a part of this. We might as well stop thinking of ourselves for once.” He paused to look over at the Sniper, who was staring at him incredulously, “And actually consider what’s best for each other.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oho man. This one was a difficult one to plan out. It was hard to write, but I think I captured the theme I was going for. It definitely stays well within Pocket Engie's perspective.
> 
> Enjoy more angst to come. Secrets are coming out.
> 
> And no, Medic is telling the truth when he says they're doing a project.  
> Also, Solly loves his friend and he will defend him to the death.


	17. Label of the Traitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Engiedoll is now labeled a traitor by association.  
> He gets to talk to the Engineer.  
> He fights the stray.  
> He stumbles upon a new tidbit of information he does not know what to do with.

There was mostly silence, but the Sniper turned and stormed out. His attack had blown up in his face. Francis kind of relished that fact.

"Well, the moment has passed," the Spy adjusted his sleeves, "Back to the day off." He took what was left of his toast and disappeared down the hallway.

After that, one after another, mercenaries disappeared. Francis was in too much shock of what had just happened to realize he should have asked somebody for a lift. He was surprised when it was offered.

"Need a hand, little fella?" the Engineer asked, offering his gloved hand.

Francis looked up at him, thoughtfully. He seemed rather friendly, the type of man you wouldn't find often in a place like this. He decided to put trust in him, climbing onto his hand.

"I noticed...you didn't say nothing about me," the man said, lifting him from the table and heading down the hall to his workshop.

"I don't know you so well, stranger,” Francis explained, “We haven’t talked much.”

“Then let’s remedy that,” the Engineer suggested.

“You want to…talk?” Francis fell silent. This could very well be a trap.

“Doesn’t seem right that the rest of the team had their little bits of dirt spilt and I didn’t,” the Engineer explained.

“You want people to know dirt about you?” Francis questioned.

“Well,” the Engineer sighed, pausing to pull out his keys that unlocked the workshop, “Being here in your place sure makes for big shoes to fill.”

“I wasn’t that big,” Francis jested, getting a laugh out of the other Engineer.

“I think you and I would have gotten along well,” he set Francis on a work station and reached into a cooler for a beer, “I can tell.”

“I’m sure we would have,” Francis nodded, “It’s not like I ever had problems with teammates before.” He frowned at that. When had he grown so distant from the men he used to call friends?

“This here team sure did like you,” the Engineer nodded in agreement, “Friends, allies, I dunno.” He sat down at a chair and scooted closer to the work station.

“So much for all of that,” Francis sighed.

“Why?” the Engineer asked.

“Coming back a ragdoll…half of them believe I’m not me,” he explained briefly, “Sure, Soldier and Scout have my back. Sniper? I don’t even know what happened to him. I…don’t know him anymore. That’s not the man I remember.”

He tried to think back. He thought long and hard. Trying to discern a face and voice that he really remembered. Was it really his memory? Or did he just glorify the man in his memories? Was it all falsified?

He felt a hollow ache in his chest as he let go of the memory of the man with a soft smile, grin tilted crooked, and warm eyes. It was that welcoming disposition that made the Engineer stay quiet about his concerns. The Sniper should have moved to a better spot for sniping. There was no cover by his dispenser. Not to mention the sentry could guard itself from the Spies. What was more, that was a job better suited to Pyro.

Still, he remembered the Sniper staying pretty close to Francis’ nest, or at least his buildings. On the surface it seemed like he was staying close to coverage from Spies, or where he could constantly refill ammo and get healed from injuries. After looking a little closer, Francis had seen that he was guarding the buildings, regarding them as too important to let a spybot sap them.

And even after all was said and done for the day. They would sit together drinking chilled brews. Francis would talk more than he could talk with anybody else. That crooked grin, those welcoming eyes, and that need to just be a part of the conversation somehow, just kept him from saying anything to the Sniper about his work. It was always like that, wasn’t it? Or was he just remembering it that way? Memories felt so fuzzy that he did not trust them well enough.

“Medic talked up a storm about you,” the Engineer added, “Figured you two must have been close.”

“I wouldn’t say we were,” he shrugged, “I knew him as much as most others.”

“Always talking up a storm that one,” the Engineer shook his head.

“You two spend a lot of time together?” Francis commented, remembering what had been brought up about the two.

“It ain’t nothing like that,” the Engineer put up his hands defensively, “We’re working on a project. It requires the utmost secrecy.”

“Secrecy?” Francis shook his head, “Despite all the secrets, there’s not much you can keep secret around here. Not anymore. At least, not from Spy anyways.”

“You had a lot of trouble with the snake?” the Engineer hissed.

“Nah nah,” Francis waved a hand, gesturing dismissively at the idea, “Spy gathers intel pretty…pretty good. He’s good at what he does. He’s also mostly harmless, so long as you stay on his good side.”

“I don’t like him much,” the Engineer shrugged, “He gives that condescending smile. Like he’s somehow won even if he’s on your side.”

“That ain’t condescending,” Francis argued.

“It’s very condescending,” the Engineer protested.

“No look, when you’ve been around a guy for as many decades as I have, you learn a thing or two. I promise, it ain’t what you think it is. Spy doesn’t express much, which is why when he does you kind of…see it more. It’s subtle. So when he gives you a smile, it’s like a reward. He’s trying to show you he’s on your side. It’s only creepy because he usually doesn’t smile a lot.”

He remembered talking with other mercenaries, one on one, about Spy’s smile. It creeped most of them out. He had to come to terms with what it meant himself, unable to bring himself to confront the man and ask him straightforward.

Perhaps it was the number of times that Spy used that smile when somebody thanked him. Or when somebody agreed with his side of an argument. That smile was there when he did win, but it always felt like a smile of comradery.

“He talked a big talk today, but I’m pretty sure ninety nine percent of his mind is set of keeping that file out of anybody else’s reach,” Francis explained.

“You don’t think he was bluffing?” the Engineer asked.

“Heck no,” Francis shook his head, “A dangerous man he is not, until you press him or try to call his bluff. The RED Spy is a man who never bluffs. It’s…relatable. You don’t have to keep track of lies if you don’t tell any.”

“Reckon that BLU Spy’s got plenty,” the Engineer grumbled.

“Ah, he’s friendly once you get to know him,” Francis replied, “Mostly keeps to the rooftops anyways.”

“Good to know,” the Engineer replied, “So why is it that you go off gallivanting to the BLU base anyways? Ain’t got any loyalty left for RED?”

Francis frowned at that, “Well, it wasn’t like I came back and ran off to make friends. I’m smaller than a football, and I got myself into a heap of trouble. One thing led to another, and suddenly I’m having conversations with the BLU Spy, the BLU Demoman and even the BLU Sniper. And yea, I made Scout’s relationship happen. I ain’t ashamed of that. The boy is happier, since he’s got people who want him around.”

“And you think it’s right to be just…playing along and letting REDs get too close to BLUs?” the Engineer asked.

“I don’t think anything more than the fact that there are at least seventeen tired men here,” Francis explained, “Tired men who don’t have anyone but each other. Even those who just came back, they’re tired too. They’re stuck in this life, even if they company gave them alternatives. At least let them have each other, is what I figure.”

“What about you then?” the Engineer asked.

“What _about_ me?” Francis puffed up his chest a bit.

“Have any interests in the BLUs?” the Engineer asked, folding his arms over his chest.

“No,” Francis replied, “Just some friends. Demoman _is_ a good man. Solly ain’t talking shit. BLU Sniper’s a lot friendlier when he’s in down time. BLU Scout’s shier and much softer in tone than our Scout. BLU Soldier…uh…think I’ll keep my distance from that one. BLU Medic’s a good man. Bright and quick for thinking. BLU Engineer is keen too. I always did respect him, even being on opposing sides.”

“You sound like you’ve made your lot of friends on the opposing team,” the Engineer commented, “Not many friends left on RED after what happened in there.”

Francis frowned, “Yea, I suppose it was coming out sooner or later.”

“Did you plan it?” the Engineer inquired.

“No,” he shook his head, then rubbed the back of his shoulder, “Dunno how that recorder got-”

He felt so stupid. The RED Sniper had stitched him up when he was torn apart. He had stitched him from the back. Of course when his eyes were closed and his back was turned, and he was focusing on not focusing on the pain, the Sniper had slipped the recorder into him.

“Dammit,” he growled, kicking himself mentally.

“What is it?” the Engineer asked, with a curious raise of the eyebrow.

Francis sighed, “I should have known it. Guess I couldn’t have. He was a nicer man when we were friends. Sniper stitched me up when the cat got me.” He gestured to his back, turning to show him the odd seams that should not have been there. “That must have been when he put the recorder in me.”

“Thought you said he was selfish,” the Engineer had a curious tone.

“In his work,” Francis protested, “Stuck a little too close to my buildings. Didn’t go for the better sniping areas to cover the others. But outside of work, he was the nicest man I knew.”

 

After the long discussion, the Engineer brought Francis to the recreational room. He apparently had some other work to do that he could not bring the ragdoll for. He also did not have time to help him find Scout or Soldier, so he was left to his own devices.

Nobody came to the recreation room. Nobody came to the dining room. The entire building was silent. He moved carefully and quietly, wary that the cat might come around.

He was certain that he had reached Scout’s room unnoticed when he heard a paw pad across the floor. His head whipped around and he stared at the cat. She was crouching low and getting ready to pounce. Her tail swished warily, as she readied for the attack.

He turned to her. He had no escape, as he could not outrun her. If he called for help, it was a shy hope that anybody would hear him. Scout probably ran off to the Sniper’s camper. He was alone with the cat, and he was done being scared of her.

“I ain’t here to be chased by you,” he growled in warning.

Her big eyes stared back at him. Big pupils expanded and then shrank, as she adjusted to the lighting in the hallway. Her soft paws shifted on the ground, as she seemed to think she was still hidden or something.

He faced her squarely, then began marching towards her. Her big eyes got wider, but she stayed put and at the ready. He kept up his pace, even though a small voice was telling him to turn back. His legs began to feel weak.

“I’m not afraid of you!” he barked, mostly to remind himself to keep moving towards her.

She flinched as he approached, suddenly leaping into the air. He lost his calm and ran back a couple steps. As she came back down to the ground, he darted towards her. Just like riding a greenhorn, he told himself.

He grabbed the soft shaggy fur on the back of her neck as he flung his leg up and over her back. He clenched with his calves, holding tightly as she began running.

He was surprised at how smooth the ride was. She was unfamiliar with the concept of bucking, so she just ran. She ran and she stayed low to the floor. At one point she darted up a column holding up a structure, claws digging into the wood. It was at this point that he wished he had strong human muscles and his own body, because the felt was slipping against her hair.

He closed his eyes tight and wished for safety. He prayed hard until everything leveled out and he was riding her across the roof. He took deep breaths, both thrilled and terrified. He shifted his seat, trying not to slip off as she gripped her with his calves once again.

She ran to the tower, but instead of going up it, she used the stairs to go back down. She was no longer running though. She panted, hopping down step after step after step, until she was done. She stopped. She was tired.

“That’s right,” he said, as he hopped off of the low crouched cat. Immediately she darted off, no longer hindered by the weight of the Engiedoll.

He took a breath and proceeded down the steps. Each step required a hop, so he took them slowly. When he reached the bottom, he took careful breaths to steady himself. No need to wear himself out after that bizarre ride, after all.

When he stepped out of the doorway, he caught the sound of voices. He crept carefully down the hallway, searching for the source of those voices. He listened, cautious not to get too close or let on that he was there.

He peered around a corner cautiously, spying the Medic and the Heavy. The Medic was gesturing frantically, and pacing. Heavy on the other hand was sitting there listening. He had a mildly irritated look on his face.

“What do I do? This isn’t fair!” the Medic was shaking his hands.

“Heavy doesn’t know,” Heavy replied.

“Of course you don’t know! If this were simple to solve, I would have figured it out myself!” the Medic exclaimed, still pacing.

Heavy let out a low irritable growl, “Find new man.”

“It’s not that simple,” the Medic fretted, “It’s never that simple.”

“Da is simple,” Heavy replied.

“It’s _not_ simple!” the Medic exclaimed, turning to the Heavy with so much exasperation that there were tears in his eyes.

“It is,” Heavy replied stubbornly.

“This coming from the man who wrote poetry for _Francis_ ,” the Medic chimed.

At the mention of his name, Francis gasped and moved out of the way. No no. This had to be a different Francis. He was sure this would just turn out to be a misunderstanding. He decided to back away and get out before he found out something that disturbed him.

“Let’s not forget _who_ pressed for this project!” the Medic barked at the Heavy.

Francis tiptoed his way from the area that the Medic and Heavy were in. This seemed like too private a conversation for him to be involved in. He had stumbled upon too many private situations, it was time for him to mind his business.

“Heavy did not press for this,” the Heavy’s voice boomed through the halls. It was impossible not to hear him talking. “You pressed to make Heavy confess. You did this.”

“Oh sure! Scapegoat to me!” the Medic declared.

“What is goat scape?” Heavy asked, confusedly.

“Don’t worry about it,” Francis whispered to himself, “Just don’t bother them. Let them figure it out amongst themselves.”

He paused, feeling a pair of eyes on him. He turned and looked to see the cat sitting across the hall from him. She was in the middle of cleaning herself, her tongue still sticking out with her paw raised to her mouth. Her eyes looked to him, her body frozen in this pose.

“What are _you_ going to do?” he faced the cat squarely and she immediately took off running, “That’s what I thought.”

He sighed and continued on his way. He would just find a way that was not past the Heavy and the Medic. Though, the more he thought about it, the less he wanted to be around some of the other mercenaries. The more he dwelled, the more he felt distant from these men. They did not see _him_ as a mercenary or a man. Aside from the RED Scout and the RED Soldier, he had no idea which of the REDs would willingly treat him as a thing the way the BLU Soldier had.

He took a deep breath. He could not think this way. He was here to be a positive impact on them. He was still Francis. He was not actually a ragdoll. He just had to remember who he truly was and keep that in his heart.

It was just a hiccup. It was just a little set back. They would be frustrated and even angry for a while about what happened. Then maybe they would come around again.

How and when would that be? How could he ever be sure that they would not be wary of him again? How could he trust anybody? How could he get fixed without going to the RED Sniper?

He kicked at the dirt with frustration as he walked. It was all so messed up. His friends were all backwards. Things were not the way he used to think. More BLUs he were sure of being his friends than REDs.

Then there was the RED Engineer. He did not know him well enough to say he was a friend yet. Still, he did not know enough to call him any kind of enemy. He might as well cut the man slack, considering he did approach him when all was said and done for a civil discussion. Maybe it was all the signal he needed that the man was at least understanding of his situation and that he never meant to record those situations. That was not something he was in control of on any level.

The thought made him stop in his tracks. He had been unwillingly recording people before. Who was to say the recorder was not still recording every single thing he said, along with the people he was with. He still had a recorder in his back!

There was no chance of getting himself open and stitching it back up. The RED Sniper was out of the question. His only hope was that perhaps somebody on the BLU team knew how to stitch. Perhaps they could at least cut it out and then stitch him closed. It did not have to be pretty, but perhaps it could keep his stuffing inside of his body.

Either way, he had to do something, or else live as a walking recorder. That was no way to be. He never thought himself a secretive person before. After everything that had gone on since he had come back though, he was certain that sometimes secrets were necessary. The Sniper had no right to impede on others’ secrets.

He stepped out into the sunlight and looked about. The nearest thing was the RED camper, but he was not going anywhere near that thing. For all he knew, the Sniper was listening in on the recordings, waiting for him to talk to somebody else. Waiting for him to reveal more things about other people, because they too forgot he had an active recorder in his body.

If only he had a body. If only he was his old height, as a full-grown man. He could pick up a wrench and swing it at the man’s head. A few dents in his skull would get the message across well enough, he was sure of that.

He looked across the desert floor. He was not sure how long it would take him to walk, but he only hoped there was somebody on the other side that could help him. Maybe the BLU Spy would stumble across him again and help him out. He was helpful before, surely he would at least know which of his teammates would know how to stitch up a doll.


	18. Destroyed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Francis goes on a mission to have the recorder removed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All aboard the pain train for a few more chapters! Choo choo!

It was morning by the time the Engiedoll reached the outer edge of the BLU base. So much for that, because he could already hear the Administrator calling the mercenaries to their respective respawns. He only hoped that Scout would be okay.

He was already sure that he did not have to worry about the RED Soldier. He was a big guy who willfully went into fights with guns blazing. It was Scout who might need extra consideration. Soldier had already built up a tolerance, a want to guard his love for Merasmus, but Scout’s love was still young, and his love was on the other side of this fight.

He found himself meandering over a span of gravel, where several trucks were parked, making his way towards an entrance. Never before had he ever felt so grateful that these big entryways had no doors. Being so small, he would never have been able to get in and out of the base.

He crept quietly through the base. Sure, they had probably all gone to the respawn by now, but he was not taking chances. He had to wait for the mercenaries to come back anyways. He might as well wait somewhere relatively safe. Where though? Demoman’s room? He would probably not find that easily given his height and his lack of knowledge on the layout of this base.

He was meandering into the kitchen when the thought of the Sniper’s camper came to mind. He should have just gone there. He could easily hide there until the Sniper came back. The BLU Sniper would at least try and be helpful. The man might have been upset at him for the Demoman finding out, but he would not be cruel. At least, he was sure that he would not.

“Engineer!” a friendly voice bellowed over his head.

He was startled into spinning around to face the BLU Spy. He had his arms outward in a welcoming gesture as he approached. He had his mask on, but generally looked like he had just gotten out of bed. His eyes even looked like he had gotten out of bed recently, red and puffy with dark circles under them.

“What happened to you?” he suddenly exclaimed.

“Ah, just-” the Spy was explaining before a thought struck Francis that caused him to hiss, shushing him to silence.

The Spy was startled and looked around. After a moment of silence he started to talk again, which prompted Francis to shush him again. The Spy looked absolutely bewildered, unsure of what to make of this situation.

He did not have individual fingers, but Francis did his best to make a hushing gesture. He hissed again for emphasis. He gestured for the Spy to come closer, and waited for the man to crouch to his level. He did his best to gesture with his hands, one pretending to hold a pen and the other pretending to be a notepad.

The Spy patted his chest searchingly. He paused to pull out a black pen, giving it a couple of clicks to check the tip. Then he dug into his robe and pulled out a small notebook. It was a flip notebook, with yellow paper. He scribbled something on the front page, then flipped it over.

He lowered the notebook and pen to the Engiedolls’ level. Francis took the pen and did his best to write on the pad. He had to heave the weight over his shoulder and keep it balanced like a two by four piece of wood. Except, a piece of wood would have had flat sides, and this was all round. Perhaps it was more like hefting a pipe.

Either way, he managed to finish with sloppy handwriting, and waited for the Spy to decipher his scribbles. Spy’s expression grew concerned then terrified. He looked to the Engiedoll, showing him his own scribbles.

“You want me to…” he slid two fingers across his neck in a gesture of slicing the neck open.

Francis dropped the pen and turned to gesture to the stitching in his back. Hopefully he got the point that he could be opened up and the recorder taken out.

“Oh!” the Spy sighed with relief, before picking up the pen, then the Engiedoll.

He wanted to protest, but decided against it. He remained silent, as the Spy tucked away his things. He turned and made his way slowly back to his room. It was not until they were within his private room that the man set Francis down and started searching through his drawers. The Engiedoll watched him in silence, hesitant to give any feedback that could be used against him in the recorder.

The Spy grabbed the Engiedoll and brought him to the bed. He turned him over to look at his back, while he carefully cut each little stitch. Of course it hurt, so he ended up hissing each time. The pain was prolonged at the Spy hesitated with each cut. The Engiedoll was just glad he did not have to look at the stitches being cut.

He closed his eyes as he felt large fingers push into his stuffing. It felt strange. It was a foreign object pushing into his innards and feeling around. It did not take him long to find the recorder though, plucking it out of him. He stuffed some of the stuffing back in, before he realized that there was not enough to replace the recorder.

The Engineer was laid aside, on his belly upon the bed. He watched with tired helplessness as the Spy dropped the recorder on the floor and crushed it under his foot. He stomped on it, slamming his foot down until he was sure he had broken every part of it.

He looked on, suddenly feeling tired and helpless. Everything felt so cold and lifeless now. Perhaps it was just that he no longer had that density in his body. Maybe he was just tired from all of the lost stuffing. He would be okay once they figured out how to fix him.

“I don’t have the materials to fix you,” the Spy admitted, once it was safe to speak again.

“I figured as much,” the Engiedoll sighed. At least he could rest easy knowing that the recorder was taken care of. “How come you ain’t at respawn?” he asked.

“I have been sick the past few days,” the Spy admitted, “I must have missed something crucial if there was a recorder in you.”

“Yea well, I don’t think we need to worry about it anymore,” Francis replied.

“That’s good,” the Spy noted, “Think we should do something about your condition.”

“What about your condition?” Francis groaned.

“I’ll be fine,” the Spy sniffled, “I need some toast.”

“Yea?” the Engineer inquired.

“Stay put while I um…I need toast,” the Spy headed out the door, muttering something in French.

 

It was evening when the Engiedoll could finally leave. The Spy had crashed after eating his toast, and had snored much of the day away. It was boring, but it felt like the safest place he had been in a long time. The Spy had to take a minute to think before he took him to the Sniper’s camper van. He was dressed up this time of course, not wanting his teammates to see him too out of sorts.

He gently knocked on the camper door and waited as the people rustled about inside. The Sniper’s face appeared in the window before he opened the door. He put his body in the doorway, as if he would defend his guests to the death.

“What do you want, Spy?” Sniper asked.

Spy pulled out his handkerchief to quickly cover a sneeze, before he raised the Engiedoll from where he had been tucked under his arm, “I require assistance.”  
The Sniper stepped down and took the Engiedoll gently in his hands. His fingers pressed in areas, feeling about to determine how much stuffing had been lost.

“I don’t have anything to fix him,” the Sniper finally said, handing him back to the Spy.

“Do you know anybody who would?” the Spy asked.

“What? You don’t?” the Sniper gave him a raised eyebrow look.

“Sniper, I am sick,” the Spy replied, not finding any humor in the situation, “I just want to find somebody who can help put him back together.”

Sniper hummed a bit, before glancing over his shoulder, “Don’t let Scouts see ‘im like this.” He had this weird urging tone in his voice.

“Right,” the Spy replied.

“Think maybe Medic can help,” the Sniper shrugged, “He usually stitches people up. He might be able to do it.”

“He needs more than stitching,” the Spy spoke quieter, so the Scouts would not hear him from inside of the camper.

Sniper shrugged, “It’s a start.”

“Thank you,” the Spy tucked the Engiedoll under his arm so the damage to his back could not be seen. It probably also kept his stuffing from falling out too.

Spy turned and made his way back to the base. Perhaps they would be visiting the Medic again. Francis could not remember the last time had a doctor’s visit. It felt like ages ago. He must have had a cold or perhaps a broken bone from fighting.

He came out of his train of thought when they entered the infirmary. It was very quiet, almost deathly so. It was almost terrifying.

“Hello?” the Spy croaked through the echoing chamber that was the infirmary.

“Ah! Herr Spy! Come in!” the Medic’s voice called from the supply closet, “I’ll just be a moment!”

There was some falling objects and a crash before the Medic stumbled out with a box in his arm. He smiled at the Spy before he made his way across the infirmary to place the box on a workbench. He patted the box, before he turned to the Spy.

“What brings you down here? New symptoms?” the Medic smiled, giving quite a friendly atmosphere to the quiet environment.

“Actually, I was hoping to ask if you had materials with which to fix a friend,” he pulled the Engiedoll out to show the Medic what he was talking about.

“Oh!” the Medic blinked at the Engiedoll, but did not take him, “I don’t…I don’t really have any experience with repairing dolls. I have no references to go by or anything.”

“I doubt whoever did the stitching on his back did either,” the Spy replied, “Docteur, we need your assistance. Please?”

“I’m not sure that I can help,” the Medic insisted.

“You can sew?” the Spy inquired.

“N-no, not really,” the Medic insisted.

“You stitch men up every day,” the Spy pressed.

“Yes, well that’s patients,” the Medic replied.

“This is your patient now,” the Spy held up the Engiedoll, “He needs stitches.”

“Spy, I can’t,” the Medic held up his hands and waved them defensively.

“Doctor, it’s not rocket science!” the Spy insisted, “I’m begging you!”

Suddenly, the double doors slammed open and everybody turned to look. The Demoman stumbled in, looking worse for wear as he dragged his foot behind him. He held a bottle of hard scotch in his hand, mostly empty, with a little liquid sloshing about in the bottom.

“Medic,” the Scotsman groaned, “I need help.”

The Medic gave an audible sigh of relief. Human patients were something he knew how to deal with, and he got right to helping the Demoman limp across the infirmary. He did not expect the drunk to take an interest in what the Spy was holding though.

“Hey, Engie!” the Demoman broke away from his human crutch to limp over towards Spy. He plucked the Engiedoll right out of the Spy’s hands. “What are you doing down here? What happened to you?” his drunk tongue slurred every word as he slowly processed what he was looking at.

“The Engineer requires stitches, and some stuffing too,” the Spy answered for Francis.

“Ah mate!” a tear filled the Demoman’s eye as he looked down at the Engiedoll, “You’re falling apart! Look at you! Oh no! I can’t put you back together!” The man turned him over, fingers trying to pull the felt together and make it stay. “Maybe glue! I’ve got lots of glue in me office.”

“Demoman, you’re too drunk to be handling him like that,” the Medic insisted. His face was quite red too.

“Nah mate,” the Demoman protested, hugging the Engiedoll to his chest, “My friend is all messed up! Doc, can’t you help him?”

“I-I’m a doctor! Not a seamstress!” the Medic insisted, his face growing redder.

“I’m sorry, Engie,” the Demoman looked down at Francis, crying as he tried to comfort the Engiedoll.

“Um…maybe don’t cry on his felt,” the Spy finally spoke up.

“I’m sorry mate,” the Demoman broke down into blubbering as he looked Francis in the face, “I couldn’t help you!”

“Please stop crying!” the Medic insisted, gently trying to take the Engiedoll from his hands, “I’ll fix him. Just hand him to me and come lay down.”

“What?” the blubbering face turned into a teary eyed smile as he looked at the Medic, “You will.”

“Y- sure,” the Medic tried to peel Francis from his hands.

“Oh I love you man!” the Demoman squeezed Francis to his chest once more, before relinquishing him to the Medic’s care.

The Medic passed him off to the Spy as he carefully guided the drunken Demoman to the examination table. He came back over with a begrudging look on his face. The Spy was about to start laughing though, as Francis could feel the little tremors of the laughter trying to come out of him.

“Let me fix his foot,” the Medic requested, “Then I’ll see what I can do.”

 

Spy retreated to the waiting area. He kept Francis in his lap. All the while, the Engiedoll had nothing to say. There was nothing to do, so it was boring, but he just could not bring himself to speak.

It was a while, before the Medic called them back in. The Demoman was snoring on a table, while the Spy brought the Engiedoll to another table. After placing him there, he stepped aside, as the Medic brought a giant jar of cotton balls to the table.

“Let’s see if we can fill this space here,” the Medic said, using tweezers to grab the cotton balls before stuffing them in one by one.

“Just grab them with your hands!” the Spy exclaimed impatiently, “You’ll go faster that way!”

“I do not intend to make the entire batch unsanitary because of impatience,” the Medic replied coolly and stubbornly.

Francis wanted to chuckle but it did not feel safe to do so. He just laid still and quiet. He would just wait until it was over.

 

“Done,” was what brought him out of his stupor.

He cautiously shifted and got into a sitting position, wary of anything moving about. He was relieved to find that the stitching worked. None of the felt shifted, and the cotton inside was not trying to fall out. He let out a sigh of relief, ready to give his gratitude to the Medic.

“Thank you,” the Spy was first to that line of thought, grabbing the Medic’s hand.

“You’re welcome,” the Medic said. His tone left something to be desired in that response to gratitude.

“Seriously, doc,” the Engiedoll looked up at him as both men looked down at him, “Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BLU Demoman is an innocent babbu. I love his character so much.
> 
> Don't judge some characters just yet. There's a reason Engiedoll has picked Scout and Soldier to trust most. Well, them and the BLU Spy and BLU Demoman. They're just sweethearts.
> 
> Not everybody on BLU gets to know the BLU Spy though. So, had the Engiedoll come in with the Demoman or maybe any other mercenary, better chance that the doctor would have agreed to help in the first place.


	19. Morning After

The Engiedoll was not feeling up to a trek, so he stayed the night with the BLU Spy. The Spy provided him with a space to sleep on so that they would individually be comfortable. After the long day, he was glad to finally just lay down somewhere safe and sleep.

He slept comfortably. When it came time to get up and get out, he tagged along with Spy to the kitchen. There, he was greeted by the Demoman.

“Are you having a sleep over, mate?” the Demoman teased.

“I get sleep wherever I can,” Francis stretched once he was set on the table. He walked over to talk to the Demoman. “How are you doing today?”

“I’m doing alright,” the man chuckled, “Medic fixed me right up! That reminds me, how are _you_ doing? Medic told me you were in a pickle when he put you back together.”

“You were there, remember?” Francis replied.

Demoman chuckled at himself, “Yea, but I don’t remember it. A fine thing, scrumpy is!”

Francis giggled a bit, “You were hard wasted yesterday! Darn near soaked me in your tears!”

“In my tears?” the Demoman gave him a confused look.

Francis chuckled a bit further, “I shouldn’t be teasing you so hard, but you were bawling on me like a blubbering baby!”

Demoman giggled at that, “Suppose I lose my wits when I’m drunk.”

Francis giggled with him, nodding slowly, “I reckon that’s excuse enough. You should have seen yourself though. You got the tears going and started hugging and I don’t think Medic could take anymore.”

“Oho!” the Demoman bellowed his laughter.

“Oh good,” the Spy said casually as he took a seat, “I’m glad I’m not the only one who noticed.”

“Noticed what?” Francis asked.

“The Medic’s fondness for the Demoman,” the Spy said cooly, taking a sip of the tea he just brewed. He inevitably burned his lip on the hot liquid.

“Aye, we’re good friends,” Demoman smiled and nodded.

“More than friends?” the Spy pressed.

Demoman lost his smile, “No.” Francis caught the red tone filling the man’s cheeks. “We’re just pals, is all!” the Demoman pressed.

Spy gave him a less than believing look as he blew on his cup of tea. At least Spy was also doing better today. He had the sniffles, but he already sounded like his sickness had subsided.

“I’m serious!” the Demoman insisted, as the silence lingered, “We’re just friends! I’m nicer to him than the lot of you because that’s in my nature!”

“Mmhm,” the Spy hid his amused smile in another sip of tea.

“He’s nicer to me because I’m not a bloody asshole!” the Demoman said, “Picking on him ‘cause he’s got the weaker guns, and hassling him when he’s trying to do his job among eight other men!”

“Yup,” the Spy said, making a popping sound with his lips, as if there was something emphasized there.

“We’re just good friends,” the Demoman insisted further.

“Listen,” Francis interrupted, “We’re not accusing or anything. We just notice…Medic really likes you. You seem to like him well enough.”

“You don’t know that he likes me _that_ way!” the Demoman protested.

“Don’t worry, Filch,” the Spy said, setting down his cup, “We know that he likes you _that_ way.”

“He practically told me himself,” Francis added.

“He did?” both of them looked at him incredulously.

“Well…not in so many words,” he hesitated, trying to think back on his conversation with the Medic, “Either or…I think you’d have a shot at a date.”

“A…a date?” the Demoman flumped back against his seat, looking quite stunned.

It must have been the most astonishing thing in the world to him, to have a chance with somebody. He just looked so utterly stumped and without words about it. He must have been trying to piece together how he could make it work. Francis watched in amused silence as the Demoman tried to take this in.

“What’s it to the two of you?” he finally spoke up, pointing between the Spy and the ragdoll warily.

Francis shared a look with the Spy, who shrugged, “The Engineer has taken up matching couples with people they really like. It’s made some people happy. That interests me.”

Francis nodded in agreement, “RED Soldier has Merasmus. Sniper has the Scouts.”

“You might have the Medic,” the Spy added, with a light teasing tone.

“Well,” the Demoman paused, looking down at the table’s surface, “I don’t know.”

Francis frowned with concern, “What do you mean that you don’t know?”

“I mean, I…” Demoman paused for thought, his eyes flickering around, “I don’t know that _I_ feel that way. I don’t feel like toying with somebody I ain’t sure about.”

“You like him, don’t you?” Francis pressed.

“Yea, but…to me, we’re pals,” Demoman explained, “I don’t think of him…like _that_ at all.”

Francis hesitated for thought. Well that put a wrench in all of the impromptu plans of matching Demoman up with Medic. He looked to the Spy, searching for something else to say.

“Ah well,” the Spy took up his tea again, “Not taking chances gets you nowhere. At best things work out. At worst, you had a good time with a good friend, non?”

“I suppose,” the Demoman hesitated.

“If you don’t want to do anything, it’s fine,” Francis raised his hands, hoping his words would ease the Demoman out of feeling like he was being pushed into anything, “We just see an opportunity you could take for happiness.”

“Aye? What about Spy?” the Demoman gestured to the man sitting across from him.

Francis looked from the Spy who was sipping his tea back to the Demoman, “What about him?”

“You can’t tell me nobody else notices everybody lookin’ at him!” the Demoman said, with a sneer.

“What?” he looked at the Spy, who was suddenly choking on his tea.

“You haven’t noticed? The BLU Soldier looks at him. The BLU Engineer looks at him,” that mischievous smile was getting bigger and bigger, “Even some REDs look at him!”

“Who?” Francis felt his eyes get wide with amazement.

“RED Spy for one!” Demoman said with a giddy snicker.

“That’s not true,” the BLU Spy argued, “He’s a straight man.”

“That’s what he says until he’s looking at this guy!” the Demoman snickered.

The BLU Spy frowned at him, “Are you inferring something?”

“No,” the Demoman held his tongue, trying not to burst into laughter.

“I would hate to find out that you were inferring something,” the Spy said, getting up to refill his tea.”

“I don’t understand,” Francis muttered as he watched the Spy go.

Demoman lowered his voice, “Then there’s that RED Heavy who eyes him a lot. And the new Engineer over there likes teasin’ him quite a bit! Hell, I think even the RED Demoman has had eyes on him!”

Francis felt a twinge in his mind, a tickle of memory going by his thoughts, when he mentioned the Heavy. He remembered the conversation between the Medic and the Heavy. They had been discussing something, with the Medic being in a heated frenzy. Had it been the Heavy or the Medic who had mentioned the name Francis? It must have been the Medic, since he was the one in a frenzy and not the Heavy.

“I think you’re misinterpreting their looks,” now the BLU Spy suddenly seemed off. He was grumpy now, sipping on his tea as he glared at the Demoman.

“I doubt it, lad!” the Demoman laughed.

The Spy rolled his eyes and left the room, leaving Francis and Demoman alone. The two of them shared a look and shrugged. That was when the Demoman decided to turn his attention to his breakfast. That was also when the BLU Scout came wandering in.

“Hey Demo!” Scout called, as he opened the fridge to dig around, “Hey Engie! Did you get stitched up yesterday?”

“Yup,” Engie patted his chest, despite the stitches being on his back, “All fixed and good as I can be!”

“Glad to hear it!” Scout turned to smile at him. He had an armful of things to start cooking.

“You’re on cooking duty this morning then?” Demoman said, with a glimmer of mischief in his eye.

“Yea,” Scout replied as he turned on the stove, “Sniper’s cooking isn’t very good. You can survive on it…it’s just…I’m not fancy like a Spy or nothing. It’s just that…there’s a line, and you don’t cross it.”

Francis chuckled, “You boys been doing alright out there?”

“Oh yea,” the Scout replied, “I’ve been getting used to sharing a bed. Helps that we’re near enough to the base that I can sneak off to another bed if it gets too squished. It does that sometimes, having three people in a tiny camper.”

“You need a bigger bed,” Demoman chuckled, before stuffing his mouth full again.

Francis hesitated. A lot had happened in the past few days. Just the other day, Sniper had revealed a recorder in his back, a recorder that had been used to out Scout and Soldier both. He was not even sure how either of them felt about him, after all of that.

“How is RED doing?” he asked.

“Hmm?” Scout looked at him as he cracked eggs into a pan over the stove, “Jack? Oh he’s…he’s doing fine.”

Francis paused to file away that tidbit of information. The RED Scout’s name was Jack. That would help him to tell the two Scout’s apart when calling for them, without using their team colors. That would just be a lot easier.

“I mean…really,” he pressed, “How is he doing?”

The BLU Scout hesitated and blinked, uncertainly, “I…think he’s fine. Like I said, he’s doing okay. Why?”

“After what happened…I thought he might be angry with me,” Francis explained, feeling forlorn.

“None of us are upset with you,” Scout gestured to the Demoman, “He’s cool with it. He hasn’t outed us or nothing, so it’s not like you did anything to hurt us.”

Francis flinched, looking between the Demoman and Scout, “No! Not about that! About the RED Sniper! The recorder? The…the meeting? He…he outed…” He paused watching the confused look on the BLU Scout’s face. “Didn’t he tell you?” he asked, confusedly.

“Uh…what is he supposed to have told me,” Scout replied with uncertainty.

Francis took a breath. Scout had to have told them. BLU Scout must just be forgetting about what he had said.

“The RED Sniper,” he stated, hoping to jog the younger mercenary’s memory, “He put a recorder in me. Used it to out…Scout and Soldier.”

“He outed Soldier?!” the Demoman exclaimed, leaping to his feet.

“He outed Jack?!” the Scout exclaimed with panic.

“Now listen!” Francis tried to rein them in.

“I have to talk to Solly!” the Demoman exclaimed, rushing from the room.

“I have to tell Lou!” the BLU Scout grabbed Francis as he dashed from the kitchen.

“Now hold on!” Francis exclaimed, as he was lifted off of the table and taken on a trip to the BLU Sniper’s camper.

He groaned, as he was being practically thrashed around as the runner’s arm moved quickly back and forth. When the world stopped spinning was when he realized that he was finally in the camper. BLU Scout was hurriedly telling the Sniper what he had heard from the Engiedoll.

He groaned again, “Scout?”

He rubbed his head as he was raised to Sniper’s eye level. He blinked, trying to get a better look at the man he was supposed to be looking at. Man was he dizzy.

The Sniper was not looking at him anymore though, he was shaking a foot that was up on the bed, “Jack, Jack come down here. We need to talk.”

“N-no!” the RED Scout called.

The mournful sniffle was all that Francis needed to hear. “Oh God…you _are_ mad at me, aren’t you?” he called to the RED Scout.

The foot disappeared, so the BLU Sniper reached up to grab it. He pulled it until a leg appeared. Then another leg appeared, and he dragged the Scout right off of the bed and onto his shoulder. Scout was gripping the blankets to try and stay on, but the taller man was much stronger than the bed sheets. With a huff, the Sniper dropped the Scout onto the couch and began straightening the blankets, or at least tossing them back onto the bed.

“Red,” the BLU Scout approached the RED Scout, hesitantly, “Look…we weren’t going to ask, but this sounds bad. What…what happened?”

Scout pulled his knees to his chest and tried to hide his red rimmed eyes. He looked so ashamed and broken. Francis felt a pain in his chest as he looked upon the younger mercenary. He had thought the man was made of tougher stuff, much tougher than this.

“Scout, I…” Francis hesitated, still stuck in the BLU Scout’s grip, “I swear I didn’t know. I didn’t know it was there. I didn’t know he was recording it. I didn’t know he was going to do that.”

“I…I know,” Scout raised his head to look at Francis. He paused to rub his eyes on his knuckles.

“You know?” Francis took breaths, relieved that Scout was not angry with him.

“I knew you would never do that,” Scout explained, “And you seemed as surprised as anyone. Sniper used you for his…whatever it was…just as much as he used me.”

“What happened?” the BLU Scout pressed again.

“I…” the RED Scout rubbed his eyes, “You tell them, Engie.”

The BLU Scout handed Francis over to the BLU Sniper. He did not look amused in the least. In fact, there seemed to be something like wariness in his face. Perhaps he was not believing him the way Scout believed him.

“Want to start explaining?” the Sniper growled. Yes, that growl was terrifying.

“Here, just set him down,” the BLU Scout suggested, “We’ll both sit down and listen.”

The BLU Scout demonstrated by seating himself next to the other Scout. The Sniper took an obvious calming breath before setting the Engiedoll on the table. He situated himself on the other side of RED Scout and looped an arm behind him.

Francis straightened up, gathering words to complete his story. Already, he could tell that he was walking on thin ice, if only with the BLU Sniper. He did not want to be enemies with the BLU Sniper, like he apparently was with the RED Sniper.

“This all started…I guess before I knew about it,” Francis started explaining, “The RED Sniper was the one who was fixing my stitches. _Twice_ he fixed my stitches. This…last time he must have…filled the gap with stuffing and a recorder. I didn’t even know about it. Everybody was just…gathering around the mess hall the other day. Me and Scout came in and Sniper used a remote to turn the recorder on. It…it played conversations.”

“What conversations?” the Sniper snapped.

“Easy,” the BLU Scout reached over to touch the Sniper’s shoulder, in hopes of calming him down.

“Some…incriminating conversations,” Francis admitted, ducking his head in humility, “Some of you three. Some with Merasmus and Soldier. Some with other BLUs.” He sighed and shook his head, feeling like his life was crumpling under his feet.

“That’s what got me,” the RED Scout said, straightening up in his seat, “You wouldn’t have let him do that if it would have gotten you in trouble too.”

Francis nodded, glad that there was evidence to his innocence. This seemed to be enough for the Sniper, as his expression softened. Francis was glad to see he had not lost a friend.

“Spy stood up to him,” Francis went on, “Kind of…made it clear that everybody on base has secrets they don’t want spreading.”

“I’ll spread those fucking secrets and make them be quiet!” the BLU Scout said, eager and angry.

“Calm down, son,” Francis raised a hand, “It’s blackmail to silence them. Anybody thinking of getting upset about these secrets has bigger secrets to hide. For now, we don’t have to worry about the REDs getting you three in trouble…but…I don’t know how far it’ll last.”

“What do you mean?” both Scouts asked in unison.

“I don’t know those secrets,” Francis shrugged, “It could be a huge bluff. Not that I believe Spy would bluff. He’s the type who comes in with blackmail at the ready. Still, who’s to say it’s substantial blackmail?”

“Guess you’re right,” the RED Scout’s shoulders slumped.

“What do we do now?” the BLU Scout asked to the BLU Sniper.

The Sniper was rubbing his chin thoughtfully. He regarded Francis, thoughtfully. A glance at each Scout showed a moment of pain and love, before returning to neutral as he looked to Francis again.

“We have patience,” the Sniper leaned forward, “Engie, how many mercenaries do you reckon have a soft spot for another mercenary?”

He blushed, not really sure how to feel about such a question, but feeling embarrassed about it at the same time. He swallowed down his nerves, “I’m not sure. I’m finding more and more men are homosexual than we originally thought.”

“Wait, what? Really?” the RED Scout sat up and looked at him with amazement.

The Sniper nodded in silence for a few moments before he spoke, “Any chance we can help you speed things up?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If everybody's admitting to it, nobody's singled out for it.


	20. Spy Bros

Francis felt like he was in a very awkward position. Now was better than never, so he made his way over to where he had seen the Spy go. He was quiet, so as not to attract attention from somebody else. When he was sure that nobody else could be around, he whispered, “Spy?”

There was a long pause of silence. Surely Spy was over here. The man could not have just disappeared! Then again, he did have a tendency to use his cloak and dagger.

“Spy?” he called out in a hiss.

Suddenly, the sound of the cloak dropped and he spun on his heel to look up at not the BLU Spy, but the RED Spy. He pulled a cigarette from his mouth as he peered down at Francis. Francis did not know why, but suddenly he was quite afraid of the RED espionage expert. Knowing how deadly he was and not knowing how friendly he would be was a terrifying mixture.

“You called?” the RED Spy looked down his nose curiously.

Francis felt like his bones had gone cold. This was not the Spy he was looking for. What was worse, he did not feel like he could trust this Spy, not like he could trust the BLU Spy. He had no choice but to cooperate and hope for the best.

“I was just…uh…” he stammered.

“I forgot, you’re friends with the BLU now,” he said, pulling out his disguise kit, “You were looking for this man?” A shimmer of cloud surrounded him and suddenly he was the BLU Spy.

“Y-you haven’t been…” Francis swallowed a lump in his throat. The blood pooled away from his head and he felt a little light headed. The sensation of panic welled beneath his lowest ribs, or where his lowest ribs would have been, and settled there, waiting for his feet to spring into action.

“Non,” the Spy smirked as his disguise disappeared, “But the look on your face was priceless.”

Francis tried to breathe carefully and calm himself down. He did not find it as funny as the RED Spy had. The man was cackling over him. The mere mockery was enough to make the blood return to the Engineer’s face, or at least, some form of warmth beneath the felt returned.

“Yea…real funny,” he rolled his eyes.

“You and I need to talk,” the Spy dipped down to grab him, before clicking his invis watch and disappearing.

 

Francis was quiet and patient. He would cooperate with Spy so far. He did not yet have any reason to think that he was going to harm him or somebody else at the moment. He would just stay quiet and cooperate, hoping that this was just a moment of needing clarity for something.

When they had arrived at a small building somewhere on the outskirts of the battlements, the Spy double checked the area behind them, before he stepped inside. There was no door, only the battered and beaten walls that would sustain the roof. He turned his attention away from his suspicions of onlookers outside. He pulled aside an old dirty rug and opened a trap door on the floor, before hopping down inside. He did not even bother to make sure the area below it was clear and safe to jump into.

It took a moment for the Engineer’s eyes to adjust to the lighting. It was just the light of two oil lamps lighting up the small underground room. There was a dirty old table and a few chairs that were recently dusted clean with a rag that now lay dirty on the table. The walls were filthy and the paper on them was falling apart, gradually peeling away in small chunks. The only decoration was a cork board that held blue prints to some machinery. He could not make it all out as it was obscured by a layer of filth.

In the light of the oil lamps, the BLU Spy was pacing. He was chewing on one of his fingernails as he waited. His eyes turned to the RED Spy first and he started speaking French. His eyes caught Francis and he became a little frantic.

The RED Spy was calm and collected as he set Francis down on a freshly dusted chair. He took off his jacket and laid it on the back of the other chair, pulling it out so he could seat himself there. He draped one arm over the edge of the back of his chair and crossed one knee over the other. He relaxed there as he sat back to listen to the BLU chatter.

The longer Francis watched the two, the more he realized that something was going on. The more he listened, though he understood none of the words, the more he felt that there was something between them. It was out of the question that the two of them would be in a relationship though. Then again, prior to this meeting, he thought the Spies never spoke and never had any form of communication outside of espionage.

He stood upon the chair to try and get their attentions, “Wait a minute! Wait a minute! Are you two…?”

There was an exchange of looks as the BLU Spy looked like he was going to flee. The RED Spy was calm and cool about it though. He simply gestured between himself and the BLU Spy nonchalantly.

“Non,” was the RED Spy’s response, “We are siblings. This is my brother.”

Francis’ jaw fell open and he looked from one man to the other. Somehow this seemed even more unbelievable than the three men sharing the BLU Sniper’s camper. Perhaps if it had been before any of this happened, it would make more sense. Still, the two men being of the same blood relations had his mind spinning for a minute, trying to catch a grip on what reality was. Demoman was definitely far off on what the RED Spy felt about the BLU Spy.

“You two?” he pointed between each Spy, eyes darting back and forth questioningly.

The BLU Spy was looking at the RED Spy. Tears welled up in his eyes, but they never fell. He just kept this fond gaze fixated upon the other man, like it was the first time he was seeing his brother.

His voice cracked as a line of French, a small question came out. He did not seem like a Spy, not like himself, as he spoke softly to the RED. The RED gestured dismissively and responded just as coolly as he had before. Whatever he said must have been exactly what the BLU Spy wanted to hear, because his face lit up with teary eyed happiness.

“So, you two are…brothers?” he reaffirmed, watching as they both nodded.

“Oui,” the RED Spy replied, with a firm nod.

“You never admitted that before!” the BLU said in an excited tone.

He seemed so thrilled at the mere idea that the RED was accepting the fact that they were brothers. Perhaps it was that open admission, and that the BLU had been in secret for so long that their relationship as siblings had dwindled. Francis could only imagine what that was like, to look at one’s brother, but never feel sure if they still cared about them as a sibling.

“You never said it either,” the RED scoffed dismissively. He seemed to take this all in like it was no big deal. It was certainly not affecting him the way it affected the BLU.

“I thought we were being discrete!” the BLU exclaimed, defensively.

“So did I,” the RED gestured to Francis. He shifted in his chair, leaning over his knees. His tone and expression grew grave as he moved, “Now our friend is in over his head.”

“I’m right here, you know,” Francis called to him. There was no reason to talk about him like he did not exist.

“Yes indeed,” the RED looked from the Engiedoll back to his BLU brother.

“Why did Sniper do that though? You said the Sniper was the key to this,” the BLU said, as if picking up on a previous conversation, “He started all of this. If we stop him, we stop this, non?”

“Non,” the RED Spy shook his head.

“Well what then?” the BLU asked, with exasperation panging in his voie.

“My leads point to him,” the RED pointed to Francis, who jumped back on his chair.

Francis lifted his hands defensively, “Me? I didn’t do anything to him! I tried to befriend him! I tried to pick up where we left off! I just couldn’t-”

“You cannot convince everybody of your existence,” the RED cut him off, “He is convinced you are merely a creature with those memories. It makes more sense to him than a ghost living in the body of a doll.”

“What do _you_ think?” the BLU asked his brother, a touched worriedly.

The RED shrugged and responded in French. Francis tried to gauge what it was about by their facial expressions and tones. He could not figure anything out though.

“What are we talking about here?” Francis asked, feeling very out of the loop.

They looked to him, then back to each other. BLU returned to nervously chewing on a fingernail. RED sighed and turned to Francis, shifting his position.

“All of this matchmaking is stirring up trouble,” the RED Spy explained, “It needs to stop.”

“Stop? While it’s already started?” the BLU scoffed, “If we stop now, we let it go to chaos. No, we can’t stop there.”

“What about the doctor’s experiment?” the RED Spy asked, with a lifted eyebrow.

“I’ll think on that,” the BLU gestured to Francis, “We have bigger problems to deal with.”

“Oh boy,” Francis ran a hand over his face, “You want us to stop this?” That would be a problem, since he already started making plans with the Sniper and Scouts.

“It’s…I can tolerate this, it’s not my problem,” the RED gestured in a general circle, “It’s that things are changing fast and that doesn’t settle well for old men.”

“We’re old men,” the BLU scoffed, “What does that say about us?”

“I’m saying the general populace,” the RED poked the table with a finger pointedly, “Every other man here is getting stir crazy from the changes. The more they notice it, the crazier they are. First is the RED Sniper, next…probably the RED Medic…if not the BLU Soldier.”

“The BLU Soldier is just an asshole,” Francis commented.

“Don’t be so quick to judge,” the RED Spy said.

“Why? What’s so great about him?” Francis retorted.

The Spies shared a look, then looked back at him, “It’s just better not to make assumptions.”

Francis rolled his eyes, “What is he then?”

“Don’t worry about it,” the RED gestured dismissively.

“Look, if we keep doing this, then more will have changed than not,” the BLU explained, “Not only that, but those people will be _happy_.”

“Did it make you happy?” the RED went on to say something more in French, but once again Francis did not understand it. It was getting a little frustrating.

This time, the BLU had a significantly angry reaction. He clenched his hands into fists and shouted, “This is much different!”

“How is this any different?!” the RED responded just as loudly.

“This is different because we _aren’t_ questioning them! We aren’t asking them if they’re _sure_! We’re helping them to connect with people in ways they couldn’t on their own!” the BLU replied, still shouting.

“BLU Demoman and RED Soldier are friends again,” Francis offered as an example. Hopefully that gave some respite to the argument and added some padding, some reasoning to why they needed to get these mercenaries together.

“Sniper and the Scouts have only been together how long? And they’re all much happier!” the BLU was nodding.

“And what next? You think just everybody has a pair? You think that everybody is just the same here? That’s the same thinking _they_ had! Listen to yourself! You’re a hypocrite!” the RED exclaimed, his hands gesturing in exasperation until they came to land on his knees.

The BLU looked dejected, like there was nothing more he could do or say. He seemed like the younger of the two brothers. Maybe he was always having to follow the leader.

“Not to be the bearer of breaking your little argument,” the Engiedoll cut in, “But uh…Demoman’s someone I’m dead set on finding happiness for.”

The RED raised an eyebrow. His brother nodded, a smile creeping back onto his face. Maybe his hopes could be raised back up. The poor man seemed like he was thrown for a loop with all of this nonsense.

“And what options are there?” the RED growled.

“Plenty,” Francis smiled, “I reckon I’m gonna start with the BLU Medic.”

“BLU Medic?” the RED looked to his brother.

BLU nodded, “He’s developed an interest in the Demoman.”

“You’re sure _that’s_ going to work?” the RED asked, warily.

“They’ve been good friends for quite some time now,” the BLU answered, “And Medic has been dropping hints everywhere that he is craving some Demoman.”

The RED quirked an eyebrow at his brother, “And the Demoman himself.”

“We’ll see,” Francis replied, “This ain’t some business we’re running. I just want my friend happy. If that means he gets a man in his life, then gosh darn it I’m gonna set him up on a date!”

RED Spy ran his hands up and down his pants as he thought about this. He finally gave a shake of his head and got to his feet. He was silent as he picked up his suit jacket and pulled it on. He shifted it on his shoulders and buttoned it up before turning to his brother.

“Whatever you do, don’t cause trouble,” RED said sternly, “I’ll be investigating the Medic’s _experiment_.”

“Never promises,” BLU replied coyly.

The RED sighed and shook his head, “I’ll be off.”

He began climbing the ladder, leaving Francis with the BLU Spy. It was a lot to take in. Realizing that the two Spies were brothers and seeing how they got on was bizarre to his mind. He still felt like they should be some sort of competing enemies with each other. Seeing them yammer in French. It was all so much to take in all at one sitting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Spies are brothers. Didn't see that coming did you?
> 
> Edit: I reread the chapter the next day and ugh, did I miss so many mistakes. I did a rewrite for grammatical and semantic errors.


	21. Party Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BLU Spy has planned a party. Francis attends to make sure things go smoothly. Not everything goes smoothly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick update before you continue: Chapter 20 has been edited before the release of this chapter.

“Over here,” the BLU Spy gestured.

It had been a long day of running around. Most of it was not even involving Francis. The BLU Spy was doing all of the work. Much of the time, he left Francis aside to make everything look like it was not tied together by this little ragdoll.

Now, they were approaching a makeshift porch. It was the remains of an old building, once cleared off to make for a fighting platform, now decorated with a few tables. Francis and the BLU were looking down on it from a nearby roof, perched up high where nobody would notice them at first.

Right now, two of the tables were already filled. One table held the Scouts and the BLU Sniper, along with the RED Soldier and the BLU Demoman. At the other table, they had seated the RED Medic, the BLU Heavy, the Engineers and the Pyros.

One table was full of chatter already. They intermingled like they were old friends catching up. Francis could even hear the distant sound of laughter. It was like music to his ears.

At the other table, it was mostly silence and awkwardness, aside from the Pyros. Somehow, the two suited men managed to chatter away all of their awkwardness, while the rest remained in tense silence.

“We should have organized them differently,” Francis noted.

“Jake said he thought this would be better,” the BLU Spy shrugged, causing the Engiedoll on his shoulder to shift.

“If we can just get them talking,” Francis rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

The BLU Spy gasped, “Look! Over there!”

Francis followed the man’s finger down and off a ways. He was not yet within view of the tables, but from their perch, the two of them could see the BLU Medic. The man hesitated, stopping in his tracks. Francis wished he could be closer, so he could hear and see what was going on with him. He made some gestures, maybe trying to psych himself up or calm himself down. Whatever it was, it caused him to turn away, shake his head and march off back towards his base.

“We have to stop him!” the BLU exclaimed in a soft voice.

“BLU,” the sound of a decloak and the RED Spy’s voice interrupted them.

“Not right now,” the BLU replied, waving a hand to stop him.

“ _Right_ now! This is important!” the RED grabbed the BLU’s other shoulder.

“It can wait, can’t it? This can’t!” the BLU insisted, trying to pull from his brother’s grasp.

“No, this is urgent,” the RED insisted.

“You two talk,” Francis got to his feet, “Just give me a toss and I’ll get to him from there.” Francis pointed to the BLU Medic, who was almost out of sight.

“Right!” the BLU snatched up the Engiedoll and got into a pitching stance. He wondered if the Scouts would be impressed that the Spy knew how to throw like baseball. Except, this did not turn out like baseball, as he ended up being spun around in his hand before being pitched across.

He was too dizzy to see what was happening. When he hit something, he was not even sure what it was. He knew when he hit the ground though, gravity assured him of that one. He could also feel the dirt, which was relieving after his trip through the sky.

He blinked away the last of his dizziness as he looked up at the BLU Medic. The man was rubbing the back of his head, as if assaulted. He frowned at the Engiedoll with intense scrutiny.

“What the hell was that?” the Medic demanded.

“Give us a lift, please?” he groaned.

Without much reply, the Medic picked him up and used the backs of his fingers to dust off his fabric. He gave a groan and rubbed his head, trying to get back his train of thought from before he went careening through the air. He needed to remember never to ask the BLU Spy to do that again. That was not a baseball pitch.

“Sorry, let me get my bearings,” he requested, pausing to rub his eyes.

He took a breath and then looked up at the BLU Medic. Memories of their conversation from before came flooding back. He could not help but smile up at the nervous looking man. His hair looked a bit bedraggled, as if he had been pulling his hand through it over and over. He had this look in his eye, like he was sure that everything was going to fall apart and he had to run away from it.

“Nothing bad is going to happen if you go to that dinner,” Francis said, in a calm tone, “You’ll find friends there. It’s…they could use a friend like you, doc.”

“I…I don’t think I can do it,” Medic’s voice trembled as he spoke, “I can’t.”

“You can,” he insisted, giving the man’s hand a pat, “Demoman will be there.”

“Demoman’s the only reason I thought of coming,” he averted his eyes, tears forming in his soft blues.

“Demoman will be there,” he insisted, “He’s there already.”

“Probably already talking to better friends,” the doctor’s eyes dropped and so did his mood.

“But he’ll be there!” Francis insisted.

“And like every party I’ve ever been, my better friend will be with his better friends,” his voice cracked a bit.

Francis frowned and back pedaled. He was not doing something right. He had to approach this differently. He had never thought of the doctor as having nerves around other people. He seemed to speak openly and kindly to everybody so far. He seemed fine with all of his coworkers. They had worked together for so long, after all.

“Demoman has his friends,” Medic added, “He always has friends. No point in going if I’ll end up alone in a corner.”

“You won’t be alone,” Francis insisted, with a firm tone, “You’ve got me.”

“Not a very relieving sensation, Herr Engineer,” the Medic sighed.

“I’m doing my best, partner,” he pleaded, “And if it really doesn’t suit you, you can always leave early. Nobody’s going to keep you. I know something though, if you don’t take your chances, you’ll regret that they never existed.”

“What about the regrets of the risks you did take?” the Medic grunted.

“Those are just learning experiences,” Francis shrugged, “It ain’t easy and you live with a small feeling of guilt. I…I don’t think I’ve ever questioned how things might have turned out if I hadn’t done a thing, than if I didn’t and wished I had. You’ll regret not going. You might even have a good time.”

“I’m doubtful of that,” he said, “It starts out nice, but it finishes off with Demo having his good time with other friends.”

“Hmm,” Francis took this information in and decided to use it, “Then let me guide you. Just let me help you, and you’ll be with friends the whole time.”

The Medic looked up from the Engiedoll, towards the direction of the laughter and chatter. He chewed on his lip as he thought about it. All the while, he seemed intimidated by that raucous laughter. Francis could definitely tell that the BLU Demoman and the RED Soldier were laughing the loudest.

“Just trust me,” the Engiedoll cooed, “You fixed me up with stitches. Let me fix you up with friends.”

The Medic took a deep breath and started walking towards the party, “Alright…alright…I’ll do this. I’ll…I can do this.” He sounded so unsure of himself.

“Set me on your shoulder and we’ll find a seat together,” Francis spoke softly.

Medic set him on his shoulder and then they rounded the corner. There were three tables with mercenaries now. One held the Scouts, the BLU Sniper, BLU Demomand and RED Soldier just as it had been. Another held the RED Engineer, the RED Medic, the RED Heavy, the RED Demoman and the RED Sniper. That table looked so tense, with most of them twiddling their thumbs or scowling. The other table was the BLU Heavy, BLU Engineer, BLU Soldier and the two Pyros, who were still chatting together and having a good time. The BLUs looked so awkward, having somehow shuffled into seclusion away from their RED counterparts.

This would not bode well, not in Francis’ book. It frustrated him to see that they had shuffled off to their relative isolation. He decided to remedy that.

“Let’s sit over there,” he pointed to the table full of REDs.

“Hmm?” the BLU Medic hesitated to look, then his face became pale, “ _That_ table?!”

“Yes,” Francis nodded.

“They’re only REDs,” the BLU Medic whispered. He turned his gaze to the other table, where the RED Soldier and the BLU Demoman were waving at him. He waved back timidly, “Demoman is right there. I could go sit by him.”

“No, don’t,” Francis insisted, patting the man’s face.

“What? But he’s my friend,” the Medic insisted.

“Trust me,” Francis shifted on his perch, “If you sit with him, he’ll get involved with other friends. He’s a good friend, but he has many friends.”

“Th-then I should sit with my teammates,” the BLU Medic stammered, taking unsteady steps up the stairs to the platform.

“No no,” Francis pointed to the table again, “Go sit over there.”

The Medic swallowed back his nerves as he slowly marched between the other two tables to the table of REDs. It was like a death march, which Francis found no humor in. He was quiet as the man took the seat between the RED Medic and the RED Engineer.

“Howdy, partner,” the RED Engineer stuck out his hand, “I…uh…suppose introductions might as well be the thing?”

Francis looked and realized that Calvin kept glancing at him. He was introducing himself now because he saw the Engiedoll with this man. Whatever that meant to the Engineer, Francis could not be sure. At least the Medic would feel a bit better with some introductions.

“Name’s Calvin,” the RED Engineer offered a crooked smile.

“M-Max,” the Medic stammered, “Maximus.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Max,” the Engineer hesitated to clear his throat, “Doc, you wanna introduce yourself?”

The BLU Medic turned to his RED counterpart. Francis felt like he got smacked in the face when he saw the RED Medic’s face turn red and he fumbled for something to say. Were they all scared of the BLUs? That could not be it.

The RED Medic of all people was not the type of person to shy away. It was bizarre. What was more, he was not having any of this anti-social behavior from men that he knew to be bold. He hopped down, sliding down the front of the BLU’s vest, to land on his hand. He stepped onto the table to try and get into the RED Medic’s view.

“Doc, why don’t you introduce yourself. It’s not every day you get a chance to meet with people you’d otherwise never know,” Francis spoke to the RED Medic, gesturing to the BLU Medic.

The RED Medic’s face was still red as he offered his hand, “Anthony.”

“Pleasure,” the BLU Medic shook his hand. For a moment, the two’s greeting lasted just too long. Their eyes connected and both of their faces were red. When they finally broke the contact and turned away though, neither of them seemed quite as reluctant to be social as before.

Francis glanced around the table, then trotted over to the RED Heavy. He could not remember the last time they had talked. Must have been long before he died. He barely remembered what they might have spoken about.

It was better late than never, and it was better to find him friends. “Say big guy, how about we relocate?” Francis suggested.

“I like it here,” Heavy grunted.

“I see, but…you seem rather alone here,” he suggested, gesturing to the others who were not talking to him.”

“Heavy is fine this way,” Heavy replied in a growl.

“Leave the man be!” Sniper snapped at him, “If he wants to be, let him be!”

“Now hold on there, partner,” Francis gestured dismissively to the Sniper, “I’m not finished!”

Heavy grunted and stood up, “Think I will relocate. Is disgusting to be near Sniper.” The Heavy shot the man a glare, despite the Sniper _defending_ him. He made his way of his own accord to the BLUs’ table and found himself a seat between the BLU Soldier and the RED Pyro.

Almost immediately after, the Pyros darted off, disappearing somewhere together. Whatever they were off to do, Francis was not going to ask. He was not sure that he really wanted to know about it anyways.

He took a deep breath and looked around. His eyes fell upon the Demoman. The Scotsman’s reaction was to raise his hands and wave them dismissively.

“Nah, nah,” Demoman shook his head, “Not up for being paired off.”

“Can’t hurt to make friends,” Francis suggested.

“Sure it can,” the Sniper put in.

“Would you buzz off?!” Francis snapped.

“Nah, mate,” the Sniper growled, “I’m watching you causing trouble. I’m not about to stand aside while you’re at it.”

“Give the guy a break,” Calvin stepped in, reaching over to give the Sniper a nudge, “He’s just trying to do a good thing. Besides, ain’t no harm in meeting new people.”

“People whose heads I turn into a fine red mist day in and day out,” the Sniper growled, eyeing the BLU Medic like his next kill.

Max cringed and the RED Medic got to his feet, “I’ve had enough of you, Sniper!”

“What? Did I upset your sensibilities?” the Sniper teased in a growl, “Got you riled up, now you have a _BLU_ friend?”

“I never liked what you did!” the Medic snapped, “I never liked it and I don’t approve of your behavior here!”

“What are you going to do about it?” Sniper taunted, his voice still low and dangerous.

“I’ll shut you up is what I’ll do!” the RED Medic barked.

“Fellas!” the RED Engineer leaped to his feet, raising a hand to each man, “Ain’t no need for violence here. Not now.”

“You’re all too infatuated with that… _ **thing**_ to know what you’re doing,” the Sniper growled.

“Ain’t nobody here infatuated with nothing,” Calvin argued, “We don’t have any more reason to believe in all of that than you do. We’re just here to have a good time. Gosh darn it, it would be a hell of a good time, if the lot of you stopped being such stuck up, backwards low down snakes to each other!”

The REDs got quiet. Some of the others from the other tables turned to look. All Francis could glean from this was that this was the closest to angry and mean they had ever seen Calvin off of the battlefield, if he even was mean on the battlefield.

“Ya’ll like to bite at each other’s throats! You’re like dogs fighting over bones! Well, there ain’t no bones! Not anymore!” Calvin announced loudly, “And ya’ll have sticks so far up your asses, you might as well be puppets!”

“Herr Engineer, I think that’s quite-” the Medic was reaching out to touch the Engineer’s shoulder, but his hand was swatted away.

“Don’t start with me, bub,” Calvin pointed at him, “You’re as obsessed as anybody else here. And _you_!” He turned and pointed at the Sniper. “You’re just a low down scoundrel who doesn’t know what he has. You’ll be regretting it all when it’s gone!”

“Maybe I should go,” the BLU Medic said quietly, shifting nervously in his seat.

“Stay put, sir,” Calvin patted the BLU Medic’s shoulder, “This ain’t none of your fault. This is the lot of REDs being a bunch of dumbass cowards who can’t face feelings and accept what’s coming!”

“Then, what’s coming?” the Sniper rose to his feet to tower over the Engineer, “Tell us, oracle. What’s coming next? An unemployment check? Perhaps a hitman or two headed our way?”

Calvin chuckled at that, his laughter growing more boisterous as the Sniper mentioned hitmen, “Nobody’s going anywhere. Not now. We ain’t uprooting or nothing.”

He looked around, taking in the entire audience he had accrued. Francis looked on, wishing he could have a bigger voice to say something. He knew if he spoke, he would get spoke right over by somebody else.

“Ya’ll better get your shit together,” the Engineer started stomping towards the steps.

“Where is Engineer going?” the RED Heavy asked.

“I’m going for a walk! Be back later,” Calvin waved in a dismissive manner, not even looking behind him.

It was then that Francis noticed the two Pyros carrying trays to the tables. They did not even notice the missing man, they just went about putting big trays on each table. They went between the wheel barrows used to bring the trays to the area and the tables, until each table had at least three platters.

The Pyros paused, big napkins draped over their arms. The BLU Pyro said something with a flourish of his hand, seeming like he was making an announcement. To everybody’s amusement, almost nobody knew what he was saying.

“He said “bon appetite” everybody,” the BLU Engineer announced loudly.

A low hum of chatter finally started back up. The few people still standing sat down, as the covers were removed from the trays. An exquisite mix of homemade foods was placed on each table, each one very different from the others. The Pyros began handing out plates and the mercenaries started moving between the three tables to get at the foods they wanted to eat.

Francis sat back and watched in amazement as the food made them mingle. He felt he offered kudos to the BLU Spy for planning that out. Francis had not even known the Pyros could cook.

He watched as the tension just sort of released. Whatever had held onto them had released, even if they were not talking. Even the RED Sniper was going around to try the other dishes. He was not talking to anybody, but he was within proximity of other people he would not otherwise be around.

The most successful part for him was probably the Medics. The two of them seemed to have forgotten whatever had happened and were talking amongst themselves. From the sounds of it, they had a lot in common and had a lot of similar interests.

At another table, he could hear the RED Heavy talking to the BLU Engineer, sharing their interests in foods and talking about random things. The RED Demoman found himself joining the third table in spite of himself, laughing with the BLU Demoman and his comrades.

For Francis, this party felt like a success. They had set out to make them make friends, and they had managed that. It did not even matter if they got any of them to that level of _being in love_ because this is what they needed. They needed friends. They needed comrades. They needed to feel a sense of family again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's get in some feel goods before anything else happens.


	22. Up in Flames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just when the party seems to be going well, some Spies mess things up. An interesting secret lays hidden in the RED base.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> party time!

Francis had just finished talking to the RED Engineer. The man had finally returned from his walk and felt better. He had apologized too, feeling like he had impeded on Francis’ party. All the while, Francis had to explain that this was not _his_ party.

It was right after the RED Engineer moved on that Francis found himself confronted by the BLU Engineer, “Engie, we need to talk.”

The nervous man picked him up and slipped away without anybody noticing. He grouchily thought of how irritated that made him. Nobody was even paying attention enough to notice that somebody had picked him off and disappeared with him. He could be in trouble and nobody would have known.

He shook away those thoughts as the BLU Spy dropped his cloak. He was moving at a clip walk, “I…I don’t know what to make of this. I don’t.”

“What is it?” Francis asked.

“I’ll…” the BLU Spy looked at him, as they entered the RED base, “Leo and I will show you.”

“Leo?” Francis asked, unsure of whose name that was.

He turned in the BLU’s hand to see the infirmary doors. He waited in silence, curious as the Spy pushed the double doors open. They found the RED Spy there, smoking, as he paced the length of the end of the infirmary.

“You find him?” he asked, before his eyes laid upon Francis.

“Yes, but how do we…?” the BLU Spy’s words trailed off with uncertainty. He gestured to Francis, which seemed to get the meaning across to the RED Spy.

“Just show him,” the RED threw the back door open.

Francis always figured it was some closet for extra supplies. Seeing the light on that shone out into the infirmary, he realized he was wrong. The BLU Spy stepped through, with the Engiedoll ahead of him. The RED Spy followed behind, as they stepped into what appeared to be a laboratory.

“What is all of this?” Francis asked.

“This is where our Medic does his intense experiments,” the RED Spy answered, his eyes moving over the equipment, “I’ve known about it for years, but he thinks it is still a secret, even from me.”

“I’ve known about it for years, but this was the first I’ve been in here,” the BLU Spy admitted.

“What’s in here that I need to see?” Francis looked at the RED Spy.

There was hesitation. The RED looked to his brother, who shrugged. The two of them were quiet, apparently unsure of what they could say. After a few long moments like this, the RED made his way across the laboratory and pulled aside a curtain with a dramatic gesture.

Behind the curtain was a medical bed with equipment set up to keep somebody alive. The BLU Spy approached it to give Francis a better look at the body. He was expecting some random sap, or maybe some member of the Medic’s family. There were a lot of things he could have expected, but he was not sure what to make of the bald face he was looking at.

“What?” he blinked at the body for a moment, trying to make sense of what he was seeing, “Who?”

“Francis McKragen,” the RED Spy picked up the clipboard of notes, “Apparently no brain activity. No movement. No responses. Completely brain dead. A vegetable.” He tossed the clipboard aside haphazardly. “They tried to bring back a dead man and they only managed to make a living corpse.”

“Is he alive though?” the BLU frowned.

Francis needed a minute, as he looked upon the face. At the name he realized that it was himself. It felt so strange that he had come to associate his own looks with the doll face in the mirror. It was so vastly different from what he had come to associate himself with. He almost did not recognize himself. It did not help that the face was fairly soft and rounded, with no look of having ever been in the sunlight or having lifted a heavy box.

“I’m going to have to guess that the body is alive while the brain is dead,” the Spy replied, “Usually it is the reverse.”

“What should we do?” the BLU asked, nervously.

Francis felt like he was in pain. That was him. That was the person he was supposed to be, laying on the bed. If that was him, then he as a ragdoll was not Francis.

“Why are you showing me this?!” he raised his voice, a pang striking his chest.

“We’re trying to wrap our heads around it,” the BLU Spy set the Engiedoll on a separate table, “I am not sure what to make of it.”

The RED Spy replied in French and the two went into another private conversation. Another set of words that Francis did not understand. This time, he was not looking for vague clues as to what was going on. He was focused on the body on the bed.

That man on the table was Francis McKragen. He might be brain dead, but that was who he was. It was easy enough to identify him, even if he was out of shape. He was the real thing.

That man was organic. He was a real human being. He had skin, some stubble on his face, hands and arms. His hands even had fingers that separated.

He looked at the mitten-like hands stitched to his arms. He looked at how the clothing was just a part of him. It was not even sewn on, it was simply part of the dyed fabric. It was all him. He was not that man.

He felt his eyes sting and he rubbed them. This could not be so hard to take in, could it? Almost everybody tried to tell him at one point or another that he was not real. He was an inanimate object, or otherwise just not Francis.

What would become of the real Francis though? What would he tell the Soldier? What would he tell the Scouts? What could he tell anybody? That he was not real? That he was never worth their kindness?

Was it that he was truly not the friend they thought he was? Was it that he had failed them? He tried to be there for them, he really did. What they needed though was the real Francis McKragen, and here he was, lying unconscious on a bed.

He ran his hands over his face as he tried to stimulate cognitive thought. What made him real then? What made him move and act?

Perhaps it was just his own undoing that he had convinced himself that he was the real Francis McKragen. Merasmus had told him, after all. He had informed him that he was not the real man. He was merely a doll that could walk and talk, and held onto memories that Francis the RED Engineer had.

Then there was the question of this man. He was a vegetable, his brain unable to function. He was in a coma, so there was likelihood of there being little chance of him waking. Then again, he was not a doctor and he had no idea how long this living breathing body had been here.

He could tell the body was breathing at least. Nearby another machine was displaying the heartrate. It was slow and rhythmic, never changing. If he were really Francis McKragen making this discovery, he figured his body would have had its heart racing.

He looked at the Spies, who were having a heated discussion. They could not seem to come to any conclusions though. So, the Engiedoll found himself at a loss at what to do.

He sat down on the edge of the table and began mulling over what this meant. It was disheartening to see that he was not real, if that man was real. Francis was alive and breathing after all. His vitals seemed normal, at least to the standpoint of somebody who had been in a hospital before. There was nothing alerting the doctor to come running in and check on his patient.

“Been in a coma…” he muttered to himself, “All this time.”

“Pardon me?” the RED Spy interrupted his thoughts.

He looked up at the Spies again, “Francis McKragen was in a coma this whole time, and nobody told me.”

“I didn’t know!” the BLU Spy spat, “We thought you were-”

He was cut off by his brother who was shaking his head, “No. The Engineer died. We saw it. I saw it. I was there. I saw the explosion. Body in chunks. There was nothing left. _This_? This isn’t even made of the remains of Francis McKragen.”

“So he put a whole new body together?” the BLU asked, hesitantly.

“ _They_ put him together,” the RED Spy corrected.

“Who else would have been involved in this?” the BLU Spy asked.

“What do you think the Medic and Engineer have been doing on their lonesome?” the RED Spy replied, with a quirked eyebrow.

“I could only guess they were running off to tango,” the BLU Spy replied, making a lewd gesture, “I figured they were secretly a thing, but I didn’t have much else to go off of.”

“The new Engineer has been providing the equipment while the Medic himself bioengineered this body,” the RED Spy explained.

“Why are we only _now_ learning about this?” the BLU Spy asked.

“I knew he was engineering a body, I just did not know what for. I had a hunch it was for spare organ harvesting. I see now that that is not the case,” the RED Spy replied, “With everybody outdoors, this was a perfect opportunity to get an up close look at what they were up to. Now we’ve seen what they have done.”

“And…realized what I’m not…” Francis bit back tears.

“What?” the BLU Spy sounded surprised.

“I’m not Francis McKragen,” he swallowed the lump in his throat.

“You’re not?” the BLU Spy sounded sad this time.

“He’s exaggerating,” the RED Spy rolled his eyes, “At this point, there’s not much to go off of. This body is just that, a body. There’s no evidence of intelligent life there. A brain yes. The brain is not functioning the way it would if somebody were existing in it though.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s not Francis McKragen,” the Engiedoll retorted.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Engie,” the BLU Spy reached over to give his arm a squeeze with two fingers, “It doesn’t matter what the body is or isn’t. You’re still Francis McKragen, RED Engineer.”

“No, I can’t even grab a wrench,” the Engiedoll replied, “I’m not even an Engineer. And the only RED thing about me is the color of my shirt.” He pinched the _shirt_ and sighed. “It’s not even a real shirt.”

“Engie,” the BLU picked him up to hold him in both hands, “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be,” he sighed, “I needed to see this.”

He looked at the body again. Feeling like he was nothing felt…numb. He felt emotionless and powerless. If he was not Francis McKragen, then there was no identity to him. He was never their friend, and he was always fighting a losing battle.

“I needed to know what I am,” he moaned.

“This doesn’t change anything, Engineer,” the RED Spy put in, “You’re still the Engineer. To them, you will forever be Engineer.”

“And if _he_ wakes up?” he gestured to the body, “What then?”

“Then nothing,” the BLU Spy gestured dismissively.

“You’ll still be important to these teams,” the RED Spy nodded in agreement.

Francis shook his head with a sigh, “I need…I need to think about-”

“What are you doing in here?!” a voice roared, cutting him off.

They all turned to see the two Medics. The RED Medic looked appalled and horrified at the three men in the laboratory looking at his work. Behind him, Francis could just make out the BLU Medic, looking bewildered.

“You! You fooled me! You betrayed me!” the Medic was pointing at Francis.

“What? No I didn’t! This isn’t what it looks like!” Francis put his hands up.

“It’s really not,” the RED Spy replied.

The RED Medic darted from the doorway to grab something. Francis gave the BLU Medic a questioning look, but he was turning to run out of the infirmary.

“Everybody out!” the RED Medic roared, appearing in the doorway with a bonesaw.

“We cannot leave if you are going to stand there,” the RED Spy retorted.

“Then I will saw through your bones!” a wild glimmer filled the RED Medic’s eyes.

Francis felt panic hit him. He glanced around and saw the RED Spy disappear under cloak. The BLU did the same, tucking the Engiedoll into a pocket.

Angered, the Medic grit his teeth and darted forward, ready to stab with his bonesaw. The body he was attached to dodged the attack and moved to the side of the laboratory. There was a moment of hesitation as the Medic retreated towards the door.

Suddenly, the BLU Spy called out, “Leo!”

The Medic darted towards the voice. Before he got there, a hand grabbed the Engiedoll and tossed him over the Medic’s head. He spun in the air just in time to see the blade dig into the BLU Spy’s chest, soiling the blue suit jacket with red as the Medic sawed into him.

“Spy!” Francis cried out to him, just before a pair of hands caught him.

He looked up to see the shimmer of red appear, as the RED Spy darted from the laboratory and booked it out of the infirmary. The Medic’s angry roars chased after him, but he did not stop running. Hekept going until he made it to the smoking room. He shakily pulled out a set of keys and slipped inside.

Panting breathlessly, the RED Spy discarded Francis onto a table beside a lounge table. He hurried to a liquor cabinet by the wall and shakily poured himself a drink.

“What the hell…just happened?” Francis asked, bewildered at the attack.

“We just witnessed the Medic’s true potential for anger and violence,” the Spy raised his glass shakily to his lips, “I’ve been avoiding it for years.”

Francis took a breath and sat down. Things had been going so well. Where did they go so wrong? It had to have been that they left the party to sneak into the Medic’s laboratory. Now the Medic thought that this was his plan.

“Why did you bring me in there?!” he asked angrily, “You knew Medic didn’t want nobody in there! Why’d you drag me into it?”

The Spy eyed him over the edge of his glass, “BLU wanted you to see it.”

“Why? Why though?” Francis felt desperate for answers. He was still reeling from the realization that there was a real Francis McKragen, and that was not him.

“He’s sentimental,” the Spy shrugged, “He probably wanted you to know the truth.”

“What? You didn’t discuss it? Didn’t talk about it in a flurry of French before you idiots swooped my ass out of the party to piss off Medic?” Francis flung his arm up in an angry gesture.

“What do you want me to do or say about it?” the Spy growled around his cigarette, “Yell at him? He does what he wants. Just because I’m his brother doesn’t mean I have control of his actions.”

Francis growled with frustration, “And you couldn’t have said _something_? Given some warning?”

“It’s not as if I can foresee all things,” the Spy snapped at him, “If you’re so angry about it, _you_ do something about it!”

“Fine! I will!” he hopped down to the floor with a grunt.

He headed over to the door. He looked up to it, realizing his disadvantage. He sighed, feeling stuck in despair. This was his reality now, never being able to open a door for himself.

“Would you mind opening the door?” he called to the Spy.

After a moment of hesitation, the Spy strolled over to open the door. He glared down at the Engiedoll. “Don’t come back complaining to me,” Spy growled.

“Don’t worry,” Francis growled, “I won’t.”

The door slammed behind him before he toddled off down the hallway. He aimed his amble towards the direction of the party. It would take him a while to get there, but he needed to get there. He needed to talk to people. He felt like he needed to straighten things out before they got out of control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops.


	23. The Morning After

It took him more than half an hour to get back to where the party was. It was nothing like he had left it. The majority of the party goers were either arguing with their own teammates or having fist fights with their enemies. Everything had fallen to chaos. Everything had gone to shit again.

“No! No no! What happened?!” Francis picked up a quicker pace, hurrying towards the stage-like set up.

He could only see that one table was overturned. For the most part, all of the food left was thrown around. All of the Pyros’ work was strewn about the floor boards, as if it never mattered. The aforementioned cooks were nowhere to be seen, likely disappeared as their masterpieces had been slaughtered.

“What’s happening? No…this can’t be!” he hurried to the stairs, quickly trying to climb up them. It took a lot of effort just to get up one step. What was a single step for a full grown man was a sheer climb for him.

“What the hell man! Back off of him!” Francis heard the BLU Scout’s voice over his head.

He was panting and looked up just in time to see the struggle. The BLU Scout was sprawled on the floor, having fallen onto his back. The RED Scout was struggling to pull the RED Sniper off of the BLU Sniper. All of the men were struggling to get a grip, while the BLU Scout was just trying to get out from under their boots.

Scout caught sight of Francis and crawled towards him. Francis barely managed to get up the last step on his own. He huffed and puffed as he turned to the BLU Scout.

“Scout, the hell happened while I was gone?!” Francis exclaimed.

“Medic came back shouting about Spies and…and uh…and you!” the Scout stammered. He snatched up the Engiedoll as he struggled to his feet.

“Let go of him, Sniper!” the RED Scout was still struggling to get his teammate off of his lover.

“Get the fuck out of here, you traitorous little shit!” the Sniper let go with one hand to swing it and hit Scout’s nose. It cause the younger mercenary to flail and back up.

Before Francis knew what was happening, the BLU Scout was back in the fray, trying to get the RED off of the BLU. It was hard to make out what all was happening elsewhere as well. The entire area was a mess of food being trampled underfoot.

He got to his feet and hurried through the fray. He searched for somebody, anybody who could help him. When he found the RED Soldier, he found that the man was in a mixed up match of Soldiers and Demomen, along with the BLU Engineer. Who was on whose team was beyond him though, as the REDs and the BLUs did not seem to align appropriately anymore.

“Stop!” he cried out.

The voices of the men were too big. There were too loud and boisterous. There was no way for a little doll to actually get their attentions.

“Stop!” he cried again. Again, nobody listened.

They were all too involved in their fights to notice him. None of them realized he was there. At one point, a boot stomped on him and he could not get out from under it. Another one crushed his head.

 

Francis did not recall what happened. When he woke up, he just realized that he was on the battlefield. There was nothing really happening. All he could hear was the distant call of some desert bird flying overhead.

He looked around, finding himself in the dirt, somewhere near that stage-like area. It was still a mess too, with the smell of old food going bad under the heat of the morning sunlight. A couple of bodies laid here and there, but he was not sure if they were alive or not.

He felt around his body with dismay. He smelled of rotton mayonnaise and felt like he had been rolled in shit. The seam along his side was coming undone, letting a bit of stuffing out. The worst part was the torn off legs. One had the end dangling off, as stuffing was coming out. The other was completely gone, leaving nothing behind in place of his leg below where his hip would be.

None of this matched up to his worst problem. He could not see. When he felt his face, he realized that whatever had been sewn on as eyes was now gone. His eyes were gone and so his vision was gone too.

He heard a set of footsteps somewhere. They were uneven footsteps though, like somebody limping off. They probably missed him entirely. He was too tired and felt too vulnerable to call out now.

He was surprised when he realized that the footsteps were coming towards him, having changed course. He listened to the step, trying to make sense of it. Given the smooth way the sole scuffed along the dirt, and the solid click of each step, he guessed that they were smooth cowhide boots. He was ready to greet the BLU Sniper when a deft hand picked him up.

He winced at every touch, making it apparent that he was in pain. The agony of his leg was the worst. Those fingers poked at the spot where his missing appendage to be. What was more was that his fingers toyed with the piece of appendage coming off.

There was a big heavy sigh, before the ambling limp started again. Francis said nothing, feeling there was nothing he could do or say that would help the situation. The Sniper probably did not want to hear chatter anyways.

That was fine with Francis. Now was not a good time for chatter or banter. Now was not a good time to talk about what had happened last night. Now was a good time to just shut up and enjoy the sunshine and the fact that he had made it to the next day.

The sound of a door opened and closed. It sounded like the camper. It was very quiet on the inside, notably missing the chatter of the Scouts. Dread struck him as he hoped that this tidbit did not mean anything.

He was laid on the table, waiting quietly there. When the Sniper returned, the Engiedoll could feel the new tools the Sniper brought over. The thread, the needle. There was even a rustle of a plastic bag nearby.

The Sniper sat back with a heavy sigh. A needle went into Francis’ side and he felt the deft fingers working with his felt. He was being put back together. It hurt, but he would rather cry for how grateful he was.

“A lot happened last night,” he was not expecting to hear the RED Sniper’s voice.

He remained silent, stunned without warning. He should have known that the BLU Sniper would not be stitching him up. Still, why was the RED Sniper stitching him up? What had made him change his mind about the Engiedoll?

“Remember last night too vividly,” the Sniper growled, as he pulled the thread through the felt again, “I should have drank more. Then I could have forgotten it.”

Francis was quiet as he listened. The voice over him was pensive but calm. There was none of the hatred and vitriol that the Sniper seemed to have for him before. It felt nicer than the times he was repaired before.

“Felt good to fight, I do admit that,” the Sniper said. His hands never stopped moving, working diligently on that seam that came loose. “When it was…all said and done, I do remember things that I regret.”

He had a question but bit his tongue. He would not ask. He did not dare to question the RED Sniper.

“Some things happened this morning too,” he went on, “Last night the Medic told us about his little experiment. Now everybody knows. Francis has been laying comatose in his lab for who knows how long…” There was a pause and another sigh. His hands resumed again. “This morning, the doctor terminated his little _experiment_ …he killed the Engineer.”

This time his hands froze. They became shaky, and a sound that Francis could not quite make out came from the man. He wished he had eyes to look.

“So…I’ve been right all along,” his hands were still not moving, but they were definitely shaking, “You’re not Francis.”

The Engiedoll felt a pang in his chest. Regret, pain, frustration and the desire to howl about them all welled up in his throat. He wanted to let it out in tears. He could not even refute it anymore. He had seen the evidence. He truly was not the real Francis McKragen.

“It shouldn’t have mattered,” the Sniper slowly resumed his work.

He paused to cut off the end of the thread, having finished the repairs on the seams. He gently shifted the Engiedoll, moving him to a different angle as he began filling a damaged leg with cotton stuffing.

“You weren’t really meant to be the _real_ Engineer,” the Sniper rationalized, “I…didn’t realize that until it was too late.”

One finger held stuffing in while the other fastened pins to hold the damaged leg together. The Engiedoll bit the inside of his lip, trying hard not to cry or whimper or kick. He wanted to cry out and whine from the pain of it.

“Took seeing the team without a Francis around…this morning…to make it…click for me,” the Sniper went on, “Guess I just got comfortable with the way things were. When I saw them smiling, I figured they just stopped caring that the Engineer was gone. Guess I didn’t figure they just needed some form of comfort…to remember what it was like to have the Engineer around.”

There was a loud sigh as the Sniper began sewing the leg back together. He was quiet for a long while, just focusing on the leg. There seemed to be nothing else that the Engiedoll to add. It was humbling to be accepted, but it did not outweigh the pain of not being real.

“Got nothing to say?” the Sniper demanded.

The Engiedoll took a careful breath and let it out carefully. He did not want to start anything, but it still did hurt. He was not real. He was not Francis McKragen. He was not good enough for anybody. He was never the man he thought he was.

All of that was weighing on him as he spoke, “No, nothing.”

He retreated into his mind, trying to think back to what memories he had. He remembered being Francis McKragen. He remembered being real. He remembered his teammates, his friends.

He also remembered the past month or so. He had made more friends and had discovered new things about these mercenaries. There was still a lot to find out, he figured.

“So…I’m gonna keep…putting you together,” the Sniper finally broke the silence, as he finished up the leg, “As long as you keep picking up these guys and putting _them_ back together.”

 

It was hours before the Sniper got to the last part. The Engiedoll was in so much pain though that he was grateful for the pause. He did not want to continue with what was basically surgery for him. The few hours gave him rest, a bit of beer to drink, and some time spent next to the Sniper in silence.

When Sniper finally got around to the stitching of his eyes, he was silent. That was, until the first poke of the needle. He cried out, unable to hold back, but it did not feel like a stab. It felt like something else. And suddenly, as he felt like an eyeball was being pushed into his face, he realized that he could finally feel tears welling up and falling.

“Finicky,” Sniper noted, as he fiddled with the eye, trying to get it into place.

When he finally opened the eye, he was amazed to look up at the Sniper. He was black and blue and looked like he should have visited the Medic. Normally Francis would have erected a dispenser for the two of them to drink beside, to just relax and enjoy themselves, with the healing fumes of the dispenser that mimicked the medigun.

Tears fell from the eye as he let it all flow. The pain in his chest. The pain in his face. The needle having poked him so many times. He felt like he just needed to cry.

“One more eye, mate,” the Sniper said, as he rethreaded the needle.

Engiedoll took a deep breath and closed his eye. He accepted this, just the way it was. Sure it was painful to get the other eye in, but it would be over by the end of the day. When it was finally finished, he simply laid there with the pain in his face.

“Better?” the Sniper asked.

Engiedoll nodded slowly in response. He did not want to talk. He did not want to move anymore. He just wanted to lay there and die.


	24. Downward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Engiedoll is feeling down about everything.

He must have been there for hours upon hours. He did not lay on the table anymore. He just sort of laid about. Sniper took the initiative to move him though. At first, he set him on a pillow on the small couch. Then, the Sniper moved to sit with his legs out the door, where he could sharpen his kukri, and he absentmindedly picked up the Engiedoll and brought him to sit against his side.

He sat there for the longest time, with his back pressed against the Sniper. Eventually, that sharp noise of the stone against the metal stopped. It was not hesitation to check the sharpness this time. It was not a moment of solace to take in the landscape. It was just done.

He waited, watching and listening in silence. His face still kind of ached. The amount of stitching that it had taken to put him back together seemed to leave him with this lingering ache in every place Sniper had poked a needle.

Sniper reached over to pick up the Engiedoll, bringing him to sit in his lap. Both of them were still silent as he rested upon the man’s leg. His hands were much steadier now, no longer shaken from emotions. He seemed very calm and almost stoic, but Francis looked up to see tired eyes and tear stains on his cheeks. He had not cried in hours, but the evidence remained.

He let his head drop, leaning it back against the plaid red shirt. He could feel the soft warm belly underneath move as he breathed. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine how this moment might be if he were real, if he were human.

The warm sensation he got from that forced his eyes open. Breaking off that line of thinking caused him pin in his heart. He scrunched his brow and tried to think on whether he had ever felt this back in the day, before any of this.

His thoughts were broken off as the Sniper picked him up and got to his feet. He put his kukri away and took a breath. He reached for the sniper rifle, setting the Engiedoll on the table. His fingers laid upon the metal, but they did not pick it up. It was as if the weight of it had increased and the man was incapable of lifting it anymore.

He gave up with a reluctant sigh. He sat back down on the couch, staring listlessly at the table near the Engiedoll. He seemed like he had zoned out beyond reproach.

The Engiedoll was about to lay back when the Sniper had a sudden intake of breath. He looked to the man, curious as to what he was going to say. There at least seemed to be words on his tongue.

“I miss his voice,” the Sniper said, with careful thought.

Francis said nothing, opting for silence and letting Sniper process. Sniper had not liked him speaking up to this point. He doubted the man wanted him to speak now.

“You don’t have his voice,” the Sniper finally said, his eyes gazing tiredly at the table.

“I don’t?” he was too surprised to not say anything.

“No,” Sniper’s eyes jumped back and forth between two empty spots on the table, “No. He had a big voice. He was a small man, but he had a big voice. A big jolly voice.”

The Engiedoll remained silent as he listened. He felt intrigued by Sniper’s explanation. Maybe he would explain why he had suddenly changed his mind about the Engiedoll.

“He had this jolly laugh,” he went on explaining, “It matched his…crooked smile.”

His eyes looked sad now. Before, Francis might have reveled in the Sniper’s sadness, but now he just could not help feeling sorry for the man. That still did not explain the change.

“He’d talk in this…country bumpkin kind of way,” the Sniper’s hand raised, moving a little to express himself, “Had a grinding irritation about it at first…but…sometimes you just get used to things.”

Sniper closed his eyes for a minute of silence. When he opened them, he leaned back and stared at the ceiling. His hands laid back on the table.

“Sometimes you get so used to something being there that you start to love it. Then you…you realize you took it for granted,” Sniper took deep calming breaths, “And when it’s gone…it’s gone so suddenly. No closure.”

The Engiedoll shifted in his seat. He wanted so much to give his input. He wanted so much to say something. He kept his mouth shut though, not wanting to spoil the Sniper’s moment.

“I didn’t want a doll to remind me of what I lost,” Sniper said to the ceiling, “I didn’t want some…semblance of him around…I missed my pal. I wanted _him_ …” There was a long uncertain pause that made the Engiedoll blush. “…back,” he finished.

This felt like a moment where he should jump in and say something. With anybody else, he would have said _something_ to fill the gap. There should have been some sort of advice or information passing through his lips. Still, he remained silent through it all.

“Doc’s…doc’s freak out last night had us all in a tiff,” Sniper ran his hands over his face. He finally sat up as he scrubbed at his cheeks. “I lost my shit over Scout and those…those BLUs. Fucking…fuck Scout right now. I’m so pissed.”

He could not help it this time. This time he wanted to ask, “Why?”

Sniper did not look at him, treating him as if he were not really there, but a disembodied voice, “Little shit wants to mouth off about love and caring. Thinks he’s got the whole world to care about. What about me? Didn’t I care? Didn’t I matter?”

The Engiedoll bit his lip. Something happened last night. Something occurred while he was not around that made the Sniper change his mind.

“And this morning’s announcement,” Sniper ran a hand through his hair, “Today is supposed to be a work day…I tapped out for illness. Sure, I’m not ill, but it’s not like doc’s been all too pleasant about helping those who’ve gotten injured.”

“What about the Engineer?” he could not help but press the matter, being witness to a number of those black and blue bruises, “He could set up a dispenser for you.”

“The man skipped town last night,” Sniper grumbled.

“He…he what?” he felt so stunned at hearing that. Why had Calvin abandoned the team?

“With the Engineer gone and the secret out, the Medic pulled the plug,” Sniper sighed.

He leaned forward to place his elbows on the table. His face came to rest in his palms. The look of such despair fell over his stance.

“I wasn’t ready to hear of him…and his second death so soon…” Sniper sighed, rubbing his eyes.

“He was brain dead,” the Engiedoll offered. He immediately regretted saying it and wished he could pull back.

“What was that?” those sharp eyes shot to him, questioning him.

“I…he…” he stared back, unable to break the locked gaze, “I was…I saw him there. The Spies brought me to see. His body was breathing, but his mind wasn’t…he wasn’t there.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?” the Sniper growled.

The Engiedoll doubled his confident tone, “It’s got a lot to do with it all! You ever wonder what it’d be like to be trapped in living tissue, while your brain is numb and unable to survive?”

“He was alive anyways,” the Sniper replied, “Shouldn’t be up to doc whether he lived or died.”

“I…I don’t think it was,” the Engiedoll pursed his lips as he tried to think back.

Being a comatose vegetable had been one of those fascinating conversations the Medic had brought up. While the question had been intended to spread throughout the entire team, Francis was probably the one who had thought the most about it. He thought about it so much, and wondered how he could ever be himself if he was not in his own mind.

What was life worth if he was not capable of anything? What was life worth if his mind could not come up with ideas? Hell, at some point he had decided that if his brain got to the point of being unable to function appropriately, losing cognitive functions, he would have taken himself out of the reaches of respawn and shot himself.

A life like that was not worth anything to Francis. Life would mean nothing. No less, the fact that his mind had been dead in that body meant that he could not experience anything. No voices to talk to him. No friends’ smiles to see. No foods to be tasted as they were fed through a tube in his throat.

Life might mean something like a soul to other people. Maybe it had some cosmic necessity for others’ beliefs but not him. Life meant nothing if he was not Francis McKragen. Life was useless if he was without the chance to experience the new things in the world and also unable to create experiences for others. And to be unable to create with his mind and his hands as a team? That was a living hell.

“Doc used to ask us about-” he shook himself as he was talking, “He used to ask about…how we felt about things like being in a coma. Think the man just had a grotesque sense of looking at the world, but I remember…I remember Francis answering he’d rather be put out of his misery, than to live in mental death.”

“Don’t explain why the man would choose it so suddenly,” Sniper argued, “I don’t think the man was ever staying true to his wishes, mate.”

“Wouldn’t you want to though?” the Engiedoll asked, with a curiosity. As a doll now, he was rather helpless. As a brain dead man, Francis had been no less helpless than he was to fate and what people did to him.

There was a long silence before the Sniper spoke, “Wouldn’t I want to what?”

“Wouldn’t you want to honor that?” he asked, with a cautious tone, “He’s…he was your friend, wasn’t he?”

“I would have…” Sniper sighed, “If I’m being honest, I probably wouldn’t have done anything. I would have defended his life. But…in theory…I’d want his choices honored, sure.”

The Engiedoll sighed but fell silent. The conversation died there, leaving them alone to the solace of the quiet. Outside were the distant calls of birds, but the Engiedoll did not care about those.

 

Toddling along, the Engiedoll found himself meandering into the RED base. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the cat. She was grooming herself with her tongue, looking like she did not have a care in the world.

He hissed at her and she fled, frightened by the noise. He felt only a little satisfied by that. He was able to conquer one thing in his life.

He came upon the RED Pyro, who was delighted to find him. He was less than enthused, but did not say much when they picked him up. He had long since decided that they were harmless. If they could keep a nice and clean collection of stuffed animals, they could protect his life as a ragdoll.

Strangely though, they weren’t headed to their room. They cradled him in the crook of an arm and trotted off towards the BLU base. With the day’s work over, it seemed redundant to go back.

It was not until the Pyro stopped and he looked up that he realized why Pyro was heading onto the battlements that divided the two bases. The BLU Pyro was there and took the RED Pyro’s hand as if they had been expecting them.

“Well,” he blinked at the interlinked hands. He watched as the two started talking, muffled voices indiscernible to him but apparently capable of communicating to each other.

The RED Pyro showed Francis to the BLU Pyro. The BLU Pyro made a gesture like a giggle. Then they showed the RED Pyro a picture they had made in crayon.

It was clearly made with crayons, the texture on paper unmistakable, yet it was somehow amazing. The amount of detail was not where it stopped, as the picture illustrated a confident understanding of color, hues, shadowing, lighting, and what was probably art theory. Hell, the Engiedoll did not even know enough about art to know what all went into learning how to draw with color like this.

The picture itself depicted the pair of Pyros, though their anatomy was awkward. The two of them were in a kitchen, preparing something together. In one corner, they had drawn the BLU Spy, lingering like he had no business being there, yet important enough to include in his piece.

“Well fancy that!” he sat up in the RED Pyro’s arm, “That’s…wow…that’s an amazing piece you made, BLU.”

The BLU made an exaggerated gesture. It seemed to mean something along the lines of “oh stop!” as they humbly took the compliments. The RED Pyro seemed to be giving them compliments about the drawing too, fascinated by the brightly colored drawing.

“You’ve got a real talent,” the Engiedoll added, figuring that since they were showering the BLU with compliments anyways, he might as well keep going, “Seriously. I ain’t never seen anybody do this with crayon. This is a masterpiece!”

The RED Pyro made a surprised noise and pointed. The Engiedoll looked up to see the BLU Spy crouched on the edge of a building’s roof. He was waving to them, his other arm keeping him balanced at the edge.

The BLU Pyro gestured for him to come down. The Spy hesitated and rushed off to the other side of the roof. The Engiedoll shrugged it off and turned his attention back to the piece of art. It was a fascinating piece to look at, considering it was made out of a child’s medium of coloring.

Suddenly, the BLU Spy was standing among them. He leaned closer to peer at the drawing, “Oh wow! That’s a good one! You should post it on the refrigerator!” The BLU Spy gave his teammate a smile, who was giddily bounding on the balls of his feet.

“Does he draw like this often?” the Engiedoll asked.

“Oh sure!” the BLU Spy took the Engiedoll from the RED Pyro, “He draws all the time. He has a whole collection in his room! Charged me a half dollar to view his collection…like an art museum.”

The Engiedoll let out a low whistle and chuckled, “Ain’t that something? I ain’t never seen anything like this!”

“Indeed,” the BLU Spy flashed a toothy smile, “I must be going now though. I need to speak with the Engineer in private.”

The Pyros seemed to shrug this off as they went back to their muffled talking. The BLU Spy turned and made his way from the battlements to the BLU base. He was quiet for a very long time, almost eerily so.

When he finally did speak, he sounded concerned, “Things are going badly, Engineer. Very bad.”

“What are you talking about?” the Engiedoll asked.

“This is…concerning everybody. Everything is getting worse. Last night was a disaster!” the BLU Spy paused to look at him, “I’m glad you’re okay. I couldn’t find you after everything that went down.”

“I don’t even recall much of last night,” he admitted, pausing to rub his face, “Sniper had to put me back together.”

“Everything…putting everybody together was a terrible idea,” the BLU sighed.

“Going into the Medic’s private areas was a terrible idea,” the Engiedoll scorned, reminding the Spy that it had been his doing to bring him into that infirmary’s back door.

“Whatever the case, we’re going to be hard pressed,” the Spy said, a touch eagerly.

Francis did a double take mentally. Right, the BLU Spy was still determined to find happiness for his friends. They were going to be the priority now.

Somehow, that did not feel right to the Engiedoll. Not that it was not the right thing to do. Not that it was not the thing they should be doing. Hell, it probably would help relations between teammates.

What did not feel right was the Engiedoll. It was not the pain from being put together anymore. That was not it.

It was everything. Everything about life right now felt wrong and terrible. The misery of the pain was something very small but there was more to add to it. There was the mere size of his body, being too small to do anything for himself, making everything an adventure, rather than a moderate everyday activity. There was his existential crisis, given he was not really Francis McKragen, but something copied from his memories. And of course, the ever existing reality that none of it would ever change or get better for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The happy has kind of drained away from this.


	25. Spiral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Engiedoll is feeling very underwhelmed and depressed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that there has been a change in tags. This is important to the story.  
> Thank you.  
> Enjoy the chapter.

The BLU Spy might as well have been talking over his head. He was not absorbing his words anymore. He talked to the RED Spy. He talked to the BLU Engineer. He talked to the BLU Demoman. He even talked to the BLU Soldier. The Engiedoll just could not keep absorbing anymore.

He felt like he had been drained of his life. Energy was gone from his body, if he could even call it that. His mind just wanted him to rest or sleep. He might as well have been asleep, for all the participating he had done.

When the later evening hours came, he found himself sitting on the BLU Spy’s lap. They were supposed to be spying on the Demoman and the Medic, who were eating together. The Engiedoll could not help but keep zoning out though.

He had no attention. There was nothing he could pay attention to. He could only zone out and wish that there was more energy in his body.

“I think things are going pretty well,” the BLU Spy commented in a soft voice.

“Hmm,” was all the Engiedoll managed.

“Are you even paying attention?” the BLU Spy gave him a shake.

“Hmm?” he looked up at the Spy.

Spy sighed and rolled his eyes, “You haven’t been cognitive about anything today. Are you tired or something?”

The Engiedoll shrugged. Maybe he was, but so what? This life did not matter. His life did not matter. It was just a living hell.

The more he thought about it, the more he hated it. What was more was this recent drain on his bodily energy. He felt like he was just completely dispelled of all capacity to do anything. All of his cheer was gone, and all of his want to _do_ anything productive was out the window.

He felt like a husk. The shell of his body was but an empty entrapment that kept him there. It just felt like a reminder of what he once was, or perhaps what he could have been.

The BLU Spy sighed and moved from his little crevice of hiding. He slipped away from the window and climbed up the side of a building to get to its roof. The Engiedoll did not even question it, staying quietly in the satchel. He had no reason to speak up or protest, he was too tired to react anyways.

 

His eyes opened when he was shaken. He blinked up at the BLU Spy, who was giving him a concerned look. He was too tired and dazed to really take in anything else, such as their surroundings. He did not even know where they were at, not htat he cared. The man pulled him out of the warmth of the satchel and set him on the floor. The cold sensation left him feeling naked, as if he had been taken out of a warm and protective jacket.

He reached out to lean against the wall, using his other hand to rub his eye. He felt so tired that he did not want to wake up. He did not want to be on his feet. He just wanted to lay back down and mope.

The world just weighed down upon him. That weight carried over his shoulders and into his head. He should not even be standing up, he felt so heavy. He felt like he should have tipped over and passed out hours ago.

“Maybe you should…try to get some rest,” the BLU Spy suggested, buckling his satchel closed, “Maybe visit Merasmus. He might have a solution for…whatever you’re dealing with.”

The Engiedoll yawned and looked around. He had been placed by the door to the RED Scout’s room. Not likely he would be there. He was probably in the BLU Sniper’s camper.

“You’re just leaving me here?” he asked, trying to hold back another yawn.

“I’ve got some things to do,” the BLU Spy furrowed his brow with worry, “Scout should be in there.”

The Engiedoll gestured to the door, “Knock please?”

The Spy gave him a nod and gently rapped his knuckles against the door. There was a bit of silence, then some rustling. After a solid minute, they heard Scout call out, “Go away!”

So much for rest. It sounded like the Scout was probably doing something, which was probably noisy. The Engiedoll looked up to the Spy, silently pleading for a better chance than this.

The Spy had not given up, knocking on the door again. He changed his voice though, “It’s Engineer.” Francis thought it was the BLU Engineer’s voice at first. It took him a moment to process and realize that it was his own voice, or rather Francis McKragen’s voice that the spy was using.

“What the?!” the Scout threw the door open to look out.

The Spy immediately activated his cloak and dagger. The Engiedoll could hear him running off, but could not see him. The Scout was shaking himself, apparently disoriented by the fact that a BLU Spy had knocked on his door and fled the moment he opened it.

“Down here,” the Engiedoll tried to raise his voice. He felt so weak though. He felt awful.

“Engie?!” the Scout’s voice broke as he took in the Engiedoll on the floor with surprise on his face.

“Yea, it’s me,” he said, his voice getting a bit low as an invisible force seemed to weigh down on him.

“Where’ve you been?!” Scout dropped to grab the Engiedoll and hug him to his chest, “Goddamn I thought we’d lost you! You disappeared last night and we couldn’t find you! Well…we had a hunch but…” Scout shook his head and rubbed his eye. “Last night’s behind us, let’s…uh…you okay?” the Scout had turned him over and was looking at him.

He must have looked as shitty as he felt. Scout just had this look on his face like something had really messed up the Engiedoll. Maybe it was the expression on his face.

“Tired,” he let himself yawn and rubbed his eye, “Don’t think I slept well last night.”

“I can imagine,” Scout bit his lip as he closed the door behind himself. He was quiet as he brought the Engiedoll to his bed and laid him on a pillow.

He could not protest. He just laid there on the pillow. He felt like he was falling apart, like his pieces that once held him together were going to turn into a liquid and escape him. He felt really damn exhausted.

“I saw you get ripped up,” the Scout said, “I couldn’t get to you…I…I’m sorry.”

Scout was looking at his hands. He seemed like he was regretting something. There was a look resembling guilt in his eyes.

“You didn’t do it, Scout,” he paused to yawn, “You couldn’t have stopped them all either. There was a lot of fighting going on. I don’t remember a lot of what happened…but…I’m just tired now.”

“Man…so, did the BLU Medic put you back together again like before?” Scout asked, a bit eagerly.

“Uh…no…” he paused, thinking back on the majority of his day spent in the RED Sniper’s camper, “Sniper did.”

“It couldn’t have been Sniper,” Scout shook his head, “I was with the guy all day. Well, mostly all day.”

“Not BLU Sniper, RED Sniper,” he corrected, raising his head a little bit.

“And if the- wait what?” the Scout blinked at him, “The RED Sniper?”

“Yea,” he laid his head back down and closed his eyes. He just wanted to sink into sleep, to sink and then wake up not remembering a thing so he could be chipper again.

“RED Sniper?” the Scout touched the Engiedoll’s leg, the one that had been thrown together to replace the one he had lost. It did not match the rest of him, but that was fine. It still worked. “He did? But he was…last night he was a sack of shit!”

“I know,” the Engiedoll forced his eyes closed.

“He was beating the shit out of Lou,” Scout added.

The Engiedoll grunted in response. He did not remember who Lou was, but he was sure the RED Sniper was probably trying to beat him up. He remembered the party falling apart into a violent frenzy last night.

“I’ll…let you rest,” Scout said, scooting off of his bed.

The Engiedoll nodded, not bothering to look up. He let his head remain on the pillow. Sleep was slow to come, leaving him awake in this body here. It was slow, but when it finally came, he welcomed it with open arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was...hard to write.


	26. Francis' Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's anybody's business?  
> Engiedoll gets a bit of his energy back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may be posting chapters on the same day, but they were not written on the same day.  
> Due to the nature of some of them, I decided to gather a few chapters to post them together.

When the Engiedoll woke, there were voices talking. The voices were whispering, trying not to wake him. He peeped an eye open to look curiously upon the backs of the Scouts. They were both sitting on the edge of the bed talking softly. He could only tell them apart at this angle from the colors of their shirts.

“Don’t think…don’t think I’d miss him,” the RED Scout croaked with a tired voice.

“Yea, but…he’s your teammate, so…” the BLU let his voice trail off and shrugged. He seemed rather complacent on the matter.

“He’s not a very good one,” the RED replied.

“Look Red, it’s hard…but it’s our life,” the BLU insisted. His voice was a bit strained, trying to convince the other of something. “We’re _mercenaries_ , right? That kind of stuff comes with the territory. It’s…it’s not like we had a lot of choices to start with. You and me? We get it. We get each other. I think maybe a couple of the other guys do too. Maybe.” The BLU sounded like he was rambling at this point.

“I wish I could go back and take it back,” the RED sighed.

“Don’t say that,” the BLU wrapped an arm around his shoulders, “Please? I know…I know it is hard. It was hard for both of us. We didn’t have choices. We couldn’t turn back. If we had…look what we could have become.”

“I probably would have rotted in prison with my brother Ben and my cousin Jeremy,” the RED chuckled with amusement.

“Yea,” the BLU sighed, “Guess we’d be there, huh? Just trying to survive. Trying to help the family. Trying to…not let people down.”

Suddenly the RED Scout bent forward. The Engiedoll shifted, watching as the RED leaned on his elbows. The BLU Scout immediately began comforting him and rubbing his back.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’ll be okay,” the BLU cooed softly.

“No it’s not,” the RED croaked. The tears were spoken quite clearly in his voice. “I feel like I failed everyone anyways. Gene, my ma, Luther, Benjamin.” The RED Sniffled and wiped his face on his hands.

“You didn’t let them down,” the BLU insisted, “You did all that you could.”

“I could have done better,” the RED insisted, “I could have been better.”

The Engiedoll sighed as he realized what this was. RED was homesick again. He had not been homesick in years, having slowly been nursed off of crying over his dead family. Much of what was left of the ones he loved had been buried in graves that the man was not privy with the time to go and visit.

“You kept working,” BLU insisted, “You kept fighting! It…that’s what’s important, right? You kept going. You never stopped. You pulled them through tough times.”

“Yea but,” the RED Scout sniffled, “I couldn’t even be there to hold my ma’s hand through the cancer.”

The Engiedoll bit back tears. It was not as if he had not heard about it before. The sadness of losing family had hit them all in different ways. Scout was one youngster who had needed him most during that time.

Seeing as he had the BLU Scout now, he did not feel like he was needed. He probably would just make things awkward. So, he sat there in silence, trying not to bother either of them.

“It’s not your fault,” the BLU insisted, “I mean…look…I couldn’t go either! Neither of us could!”

“It’s still not fair,” the RED croaked.

“Me and you bud,” the BLU tried to assure him, rubbing his opposite arm.

The BLU Scout caught sight of him and flashed him an awkward smile. He waved back and shook his head. The BLU Scout’s expression dropped, brow scrunching a bit as he blinked at the Engiedoll.

He decided that it was better to go ahead and offer his comfort. He stepped around the RED and touched his leg. Teary red eyes looked to him, as the man took a shuddering breath. He hesitated, looking to the Engiedoll with such cluelessness in his eyes. There was a lost feeling of helplessness that could only come from feeling alone.

He held up his arms to Scout, hoping he would understand. He did not make a face. He did not offer words. Scout did not need words right now.

Scout took the offer without question, scooping up the Engiedoll and hugging him to his chest. He bent over, squeezing the Engiedoll fairly hard as he continued to cry. He would cry for a while more but that was fine. He did not need to _stop_ crying, he just needed it out of his system and for somebody to show him that he was not alone.

Following the example, the BLU Scout wrapped his arms around the RED Scout. The RED leaned over, pressing his head against the other’s chest as he was embraced. They were finally silent, with just the sounds of sobbing to the fill the room. It was hard to feel alone, it was harder if there wasn’t somebody there to hold you through it.

 

The quiet of the room made the sensation of how late it was dawn on the Engiedoll. He glanced at the Scout’s clock and saw that it was finally midnight. He had been convinced that he had slept through the night and that it was morning. The BLU Scout must have come to visit his RED counterpart in the middle of the night.

The two Scouts were almost dozing off. They were curled up on one part of the bed, somewhat entangled in an embrace. It felt awkward, but he would not say anything. It was what they both needed, somebody to hold and feel loved by.

Still, that did not mean he had to stick around here. Sure, it was midnight, but Scout had company now. To top it off, he was no longer able to sleep.

He did not feel his usual energy like before, but dammit if he was going to stand back and let things go on. Scout cried because he had been freaking out about the Engiedoll, which had led him to feel too alone. That sudden feeling of loss could hurt anybody.

He only needed a minute to think of a few people who needed to feel like they were not alone. Some on the Builders League United team, and probably a few on the Reliable Excavation and Demolition team. He would get around to figuring out what happened to the Engineer too, because he was not going to stand for the Louisiana bumpkin to pretend like he cared only to abandon his team! That was just not right!

He looked at the door thoughtfully. He could just ask the Scouts to open it, but he did not want to disturb them. Completely entangled with each other, they were practically off in their own world.

He hopped off of the bed and looked around. The room had quite a bit of stuff and was a bit messier than it had been before. Probably the kid had been busy visiting his BLUs and had not taken the time to clean recently.

This made for a different terrain for the Engiedoll. Already he could see a bunch of stuff that could easily stack together. Why not a simple staircase?

He started with some broad books, laying them out to create a foundation. They were not very thick, but they would do the trick for now. He moved on to other small odds and ends. Most of them were bulky and oddly shaped, with no flat sides that fit easily like the books. Still, he made do with what he could find, until he was just a hop away from the knob.

He stood on tip toes as he hugged the knob. He turned it and pushed with all of his strength. Much to his dismay, he was hugging it too hard and it swung open with him still gripping it.

“No bones,” he reminded himself. 

He took a breath and released the knob. There were no bones to break, but the fall still hurt. At least he would not have to worry about internal bleeding or what have you.

He looked at his creation and shook his head. As messy as it was, it would force the RED Scout to clean his room, or at least part of it. Maybe the BLU Scout would get roped into helping him and they could make a project out of it together. Either way, he would not disturb it, opting to simply push the door shut.

He chuckled to himself, feeling accomplished for doing something. He managed to do something, even if it was small. Maybe that was enough.

“Hey there, Engie!” he heard the Soldier’s voice.

He turned and was greeted by Jane saluting him. The man ducked to pick him up quickly, bringing him to eye level.

“You’ve been missing in action son! What happened to you?” he grabbed the Engiedoll’s leg, inspecting it with big clumsy fingers.

“A lot has happened lately, Soldier,” he paused and took a breath, “But I got a lot more to do.”

“What do you need to do now?” Soldier asked, curiously.

The Engiedoll hesitated for thought. Hell, he did not know where he should start. There was a lot to do, but he could not do all of it with the BLU Spy anymore. After what happened, the Spy was obviously going to be a problem simply for being a Spy. He needed help, but he could not accept it from the Spy this time.

“I need you to be my assistant, Solly,” he insisted.

Jane hesitated, then nodded, “What are we doing, Engie?” He placed the Engiedoll on his shoulder, as if to reaffirm their newfound partnership.

“Well…lemme think,” he rubbed his chin.

If he was right, then the date between the Medic and the Demoman had gone nowhere. The two were friends, so of course they would _seem_ like they had what they needed for love. They were just good friends, they needed to see more efficient options.

That was when he remembered the RED Medic. That one might be difficult though. After everything that had happened, the RED Medic might well not be in the mood to be involved in all of this, but still. There must have been something with the BLU and RED Medics if the man brought his counterpart to his infirmary.

“Let’s pay a visit to the doc,” he suggested.

“I am healthy as a horse!” Soldier pounded a fist against his chest.

“I’m sure you are,” the Engiedoll nodded, “This is a social meeting.”

“Social meeting?” it was the Soldier’s turn to rub his chin, “Does medic socialize?”

“He will with the BLU Medic,” the Engiedoll replied.

There was a pause, leaving a long silence. As if he had finally agreed, the Soldier gave him an affirmative nod. He offered a smile, before he started marching towards the infirmary.

When they arrived, Medic looked like he was cutting something up. It was the kind of cutting that seemed like chopping greens in the kitchen. All the while, he was muttering to himself angrily.

The Engiedoll took a breath to ready himself, but the Soldier charged in without warning. He did not bother with the pretense of fear. He just barged right in and made his presence known.

“Hello Medic!” Jane gave the man’s back a wave in greeting.

“Yes, hello Soldier,” the Medic muttered, “Have an injury from work today, do you?”

“Nope! I’m healthy as a horse!” the Soldier announced with a proud smile.

“Oh good,” the Medic sounded genuinely pleased, but that tone shifted as he snapped, “Get out!”

The Soldier frowned, “No!”

The Medic did not turn around, opting to ignore him. He kept on cutting whatever it was he was working on. His intense concentration was only interrupted by his angry mutters in German.

The Engiedoll cleared his throat as loudly as he could, “Doc, we need to talk.”

At that, the Medic spun around, wielding his knife like a deadly sword. His eyes shone, sparkling with a rage of bloody desires. The knife was threatening, as the Medic made himself look more ominous with his stance. He was a big man after all, and with the movement he looked even bigger. He looked like he could even take on the Soldier.

“You!” Medic growled, spittle flying from his mouth.

The Engiedoll felt a cold shiver run down his back at that. The horrifying temptation to run and scream existed in the back of his mind. There was no merciful respawn for little ragdolls, after all.

“Me!” the Soldier barked, ignorant to what was going on.

“You betrayed me!” the Medic pointed to the Engiedoll with the blade, “You brought the Spies in here! You distracted me so you could let the Spies in! You cretin! You traitor! You imbecile!” The man’s voice grew more and more shrill as he spoke, making the Engiedoll’s body feel cold and hot at the same time. Fear does not mix well with anger.

“I didn’t do anything!” Jane pointed to himself out of confusion.

“Not you!” the Medic replied in exasperation, “Him!” He reaffirmed that it was the Engiedoll by jabbing the knife towards him.

“It’s not what you thought it was,” the Engiedoll stood his ground – or rather the Soldier’s shoulder – refusing to back down, “That was not what I intended to do.”

“Oh yea?” the Medic challenged, “What _did you_ intend?”

The Engiedoll took a breath, “I meant for you and everybody else to make friends. You were all having a good time! You were talking to people you wouldn’t have gotten to know better!”

“You were here!” the Medic shouted. He turned to point to the door that the Engiedoll remembered going through before. “I saw you with those Spies!” the Medic spat, “I saw you in there! You betrayed me!”

“That was none of my doing!” he put a bit of anger in his own voice, “I didn’t come here out of my own volition that night! I didn’t come here thinking I would walk through that door! Hell, I thought it was just a storage closet. And you got bodies in there? Ain’t you thought of what others would feel about that!”

“This hasn’t got anything to do with you!” the Medic growled, “You fuck off! That was my work! It was everything for me! It was going to help everybody!”

“And you broke their hearts,” the Engiedoll’s voice softened.

There was a minute of silence, with just the man’s heavy breathing to fill the empty infirmary. The three of them were quiet. Even the Soldier seemed to understand that he should not be speaking right now.

“Sure…they figured it out when you didn’t want them to,” the Engiedoll admitted, “That comes with the territory when there’s Spies around. But…hell…you could have done it all differently. You didn’t have to drop such a bomb on them because of the chaos.”

“What would you have me do? Keep a failing project going?” the Medic growled, tears welling in his eyes.

“No,” he shook his head, “I would have waited til this all passed.”

“I don’t see how it’s anybody else’s business what I do,” the Medic growled, shaking his knife in the air.

“It woulda been Francis’ business,” the Engiedoll argued.

That made the Medic fall silent for a minute, before he said, “He would have thanked me.”

“Thanked you?” the Engiedoll scoffed, “Thanked _you_? For bringing him back to kill him? For making him live brain dead? For having it all secret from his friends?”

The Medic was silent. He seemed to be chewing on the inside of his lip, but the Engiedoll was not sure. He just let Medic dwell on this for a bit.

“Know what I think he would have wanted though?” the Engiedoll asked.

“What?” the Medic asked, his voice slightly calmer.

“He would have wanted his friends to get along,” the Engiedoll explained, “He would have been…mighty upset by that night. The fighting? The secrets? People refusing to see the similarities and how great it is that we’re different from the BLUs?” He shook himself, trying not to dwell too much on memories.

“We’re a lot different from the BLUs,” the Medic admitted, solemnly.

“And that’s something to be happy about,” the Engiedoll insisted, “So why not…why not celebrate it? We can be different! But…after so long of fighting…we can become friends.”

“It’s not as if terrible behavior can be forgiven so soon,” the Medic said, looking very somber, with eyes turning down to the floor.

“Still,” the Engiedoll insisted, “It can be forgiven.”

There was a long silence, and the Medic leaned back on the table he had been working on. The Soldier looked between the two curiously. He did not seem entirely sure what to make of all of this.

“I think…if the Scouts can be friends,” the Engiedoll tried to pick his next words carefully, “Then I think the Medics can too. Don’t you think?”

The Medic sighed, “I suppose…possibly.” He shrugged, looking rather dejected.


	27. Jane Makes a Good Distraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey Jane! Go get the explosives and make a distraction!  
> Explosion in Medics' mouth.

The one thing Soldier was very good at was making noises and distractions. Jane was a pro at it, so when asked how they would sneak either of the two REDs into the BLU base, the Engiedoll concocted a plan. He turned to Jane and asked him where the explosives were.

“I think Demoman keeps a good dose of them in the shed out back. Why?” the Soldier replied.

The Engiedoll offered him a grin that he hoped he took with excitement, “Go stir up some trouble near the BLU base. On the Western side. Doc and I’ll be inside.”

That brought a grin from the Soldier, “How much?”

“How much what?” the Engiedoll asked, a little perplexed by the question.

“How much explosions?” the Soldier asked, his grin broadening.

The Engiedoll let his smile get bigger, “ _All_ of them.”

“That seems a little risky,” the Medic spoke uneasily, “And it’s a bit much!”

“Nonsense! They aren’t being used for anything!” the Soldier laughed, waving off the suggestion.

“Okay then,” the Engiedoll nodded to Jane, “You go get the explosives and set them _all_ off together. Doc and I will wait for the right moment. Once they’re coming out, we go in. Got i?”

“Got it!” the Soldier gave him a thumbs up. He wordlessly picked the Engiedoll up off of his shoulder and placed him safely in the Medic’s hands.

“A-alright,” Medic stammered uneasily.

“Do I meet you in there?” the Soldier scratched his head through the hat he was wearing. He pointed to the BLU base.

“No sir. Head back to the RED base when you’re all finished,” he insisted.

“Okay!” with a delighted grin, the Soldier marched off, leaving the Engiedoll with the Medic.

“I really think this is a bit much,” the doctor commented.

“Nonsense, don’t worry about it none,” the Engiedoll insisted.

“All of this trouble just to get into the BLU base though,” the Medic said, pursing his lips a little.

“Trust me, doc,” the Engiedoll pressed, “This’ll be good.”

 

They waited for quite a while before the explosions started. It started with a quiet boom, then it built up. By the time he got the doctor to start running, there were bright colorful lights shooting up into the sky. The Engiedoll could not help but laugh as he heard hoots and hollers about America.

Once they were inside, he directed the Medic to the BLU base’s infirmary. As he had suspected, the Medic was still in there. He was not as easily baited as his teammates were.

When he looked up, he did a double take the changed his expression to that of horror. The Engiedoll needed a moment to realize that he needed to step in on this one.

“Just here to talk, Medic,” he insisted, keeping it short and simple. He gestured to the RED Medic, with a quiet suggestion for him to step forward.

He seemed like he was forcing down his nerves as he walked over. He set the Engiedoll on an examination table in passing as he approached his counterpart. He watched with a smile, expecting an extension of a hand in friendship.

He watched with a grin as the BLU Medic watched with fear. Neither of them expected the RED to suddenly take his hands. Even the Engiedoll thought it was strange, uncharacteristic even, as he took his hands and held them up in front of himself.

“I’m…I’m sorry…for everything. That night I…I lost my temper. I have a terrible temper. It’s a terrible thing I have to deal with and nobody should have to deal with it. And I’m fine because I’ve learned to deal with it. I’ve just learned and that’s that. But…I…have never felt so calm as I did with you,” the RED finally stopped to take a breath.

“I’ll be,” Engiedoll let his breath out in a whisper.

The RED Medic looked down at the hands he was holding. He seemed so unsure of himself, yet so sure of what he wanted to say. The Engiedoll could not read the BLU’s face though. He had this mix of bewilderment, wonder, fear and glee. It was curious that he was not speaking yet.

“I came here to…to make amends and hopefully be friends,” the RED Medic glanced over his shoulder at the Engiedoll, as if acknowledging that this was all _his_ idea, “But…the thought of it…makes me…it makes me…I have to be honest! I want it to be more. If…you’ll…um…” He finally met the BLU’s eyes and his confidence faltered.

The Engiedoll’s heart sank. Oh no, this was all moving too fast. It was like he sent a kid off to drive a car and they took the off ramp at full speed. The BLU’s face had hardly changed, but that was not necessarily a good thing.

Dammit, the Engiedoll thought. This was supposed to be the doctors meeting up to hang out. Arrange a date maybe, but that would come eventually. All of this suddenness was likely unhealthy and had not exactly worked for any of the other mercenaries.

“I-I-I…” the RED was stammering, looking around the infirmary in search of what he wanted to say.

The Engiedoll tried to get his attention. He glanced at him a couple of times but ignored the gestures. Dammit he needed to stop. The doctor was ploughing forward with this though.

“I want to say…that…I don’t know exactly what it is that I feel…and I never felt it before. I finally met you and I felt…like we could be good together. I’d like a chance…if I could have it-” the RED’s words were cut off very suddenly by a finger over his mouth.

The Engiedoll breathed a sigh of relief. The BLU was finally taking control of the situation. Maybe the damage was not so bad yet.

Still, there seemed to be some terror in the BLU’s face. Maybe the RED had scared the chances of _something more_ out of this man. He certainly should not have barreled in thinking _this_ approach would have worked. This was just bullheaded, as even the Soldier probably would not have done this.

The Engiedoll cleared his throat to catch his attention. When the RED Medic looked at him, he tried to gesture for him to cut this off. This was too much, he needed to stop.

He tightened his lips and quickly turned from the Engiedoll, attention fastened to the BLU Medic. The two finally locked gazes. Their eyes were no longer darting around. They were not just looking at each other’s faces while speaking. They were actually looked in a match of bright eyed gazes.

The Engiedoll gave up. The RED had charged in, and now he would just have to deal with the consequences. At least, with how patient the BLU was being, it seemed that he was not going to clock his RED counterpart in the face.

The Engiedoll took a breath and sat down on the edge of the experiment table. All he could do was watch now, since the RED was obviously not going to take his warnings. It would be too odd if he tried to instruct him on what to do. Besides, the man was a full grown – beyond normal years – adult, he could handle himself.

“I enjoyed our time together,” the RED Medic spoke softly, even as the BLU put his finger back to his lips, “I didn’t want it to end. I don’t want it to end like that.”

Finally, the BLU Medic hissed him to silence. He slowly shook his head and closed his eyes. It was a look that hinted that perhaps the man had no interest to go _that far_ with the RED Medic.

That made the Engiedoll wonder. Given the RED had admitted to having a terrible temper, would he handle this rejection well? He began chewing on the tip of his hand, where fingernails would have been. He was too nervous to wait for the answers to his questions.

The BLU’s eyes flickered to him. He had a worried kind of look. It was also an excited kind of look. He gave the Engiedoll a small smile. Whatever it meant went over the Engiedoll’s head because he was too concerned about what the RED’s reaction would be to the BLU’s response.

The BLU Medic finally turned to the RED Medic and he slowly dropped his hand. There was a kind and small smile on his face. At least it seemed they would be friends when all was said and done.

“I’m sorry about…what you saw…and what I said,” the RED Medic went on, seemingly unable to stay quiet. It made the Engiedoll wonder when he had taken up talking lessons from Scout.

“Just shut up,” the BLU whispered.

The BLU’s hands went to the red tie and the lab coat with it. The RED was pulled forward as the BLU’s face tilted. All other words the RED Medic had to say were drowned out as the two became entangled in a lip lock embrace.

The Engiedoll’s heart could have exploded with relief. He fell back with a sigh, laying down on the cool surface of the experiment table. Finally, something had gone right. At least, it was alright for now. It certainly seemed to be alright, as the desire was returned by the RED, and their kissing went on for an extended period of time.

They were stopped by the noise of mercenaries. The BLU looked past his counterpart at the door with a look of fear. Engiedoll looked at the doors too, with the anxiety that somebody might open them and try to attack the RED Medic.

“You should go,” the BLU turned back to the RED, “For…for now.” He gave him a kiss on the cheek, as if for added measure.

“R-right,” the RED stammered, his face becoming the hue of his tie.

“If they find you in here, they’ll probably kill you,” the BLU explained hastily, “I…I do not want that.”

“Right…I’ll go,” the RED stole one last peck on the lips before he fled from the infirmary.

There was silence as the BLU Medic leaned back against one of the other tables. The Engiedoll watched with curiosity. He was curious, up until he realized that he had been left behind.

“Oh dear,” he sighed.

“W-what?” the BLU Medic stammered, his face turning red.

“He left me behind,” the Engiedoll chuckled, hoping to relieve some tension in the room.

The BLU Medic started laughing at that. He was chuckling for a minute, before he finally spoke, “I think we can remedy that.”

 

It took a while for the Medic to find his friend. He had run out to confront the explosions with the others. As the Medic rushed towards the Demoman, the one eyed demolitions expert got a defensive look about him.

“Oh! Uh…Medic? Um…this is kind of a bad time. I guess…we should talk anyways though…um…” the man stammered, unsure of what to say.

“Demoman!” the Medic was grinning from ear to hear and barely heard any of what his friend said, “I can’t believe what’s just happened to me! I will tell you all later. I _have_ to tell you later! It’s so exciting!”

“Yea, well…um…listen mate,” the Demoman had this somber tone that contrasted the Medic’s excitement.

“Yea?” Medic was excitedly bouncing on the balls of his feet. He could not seem to stand still and calm down.

“About last…night…” Demoman paused to clear his throat, “I like you a lot. I feel like we’re close. We’re good friends. Me and you…I think of anybody you’re one of my best pals! Especially given how close we get to be on this team.”

“Oh yes,” Medic nodded eagerly, “I feel the same way about you.”

“That’s…um…well…” the Demoman stammered, “I don’t feel anything _more_ for you. I don’t think I could ever have _those_ feelings either.”

“Right,” the Medic gave him a simple nod.

That seemed to throw the Demoman for a loop. He blinked, bewildered at the Medic’s reaction. Maybe he expected more disappointment. Frankly, the Engiedoll was just expecting a little less excitement. How could a man get so wound up about a kiss? Maybe it was the prospect of such a prominent and bold assessment of the dynamic between the two Medics. That reminded the Engiedoll that neither of them had yet to tell the Demoman about what happened in the infirmary.

“You’re…not upset?” the Demoman’s eye was wide with disbelief.

“No,” the Medic shook his head, “Oh that reminds me! I need some help figuring out how to get messages to a friend on the RED base.”

“I’m…uh…say what now?” Demoman asked, still absolutely stumped.

“I need to ask…oh damn…I should have asked before he left!” the Medic snapped the fingers of one hand as he thought about something, wildly off in his own mind.

“Did something happen to him?” Demoman lowered his head and whispered to the Engiedoll.

“He got kissed,” the Engiedoll snickered.

The Demoman was up for a double surprise. He looked between the Medic and Engiedoll with disbelief. It took him a minute to fully register what this really meant for the Medic.

“Who smacked him?” Demoman asked.

“Nobody smacked me!” the Medic protested, scornfully.

“Okay well…it was more of…he kissed the RED Medic, and then got kissed back,” the Engiedoll replied, giggling, “It happened pretty fast too.”

“So…” the Demoman grinned wryly, “You wanna get messages to your new boyfriend?”

Medic’s face became completely red as he stared back at the Demoman. He almost dropped the Engiedoll, who was caught by the Demoman, as he threw up his hands defensively. He did not say anything at first, the words seemingly stopped by his lips.

“I don’t have a boyfriend! We’re not at that level! Not yet!” Medic protested.

The Demoman giggled and tucked the Engiedoll into a pouch on his hip, “Not _yeeeeet_ you aren’t.”

“Don’t say it like that!” Medic protested.

A loud blast followed by a voice crying out, “Incoming!” caught their attentions. They all looked up and scrambled just out of the way of the RED Soldier coming in to land next to the BLU Demoman. He was smiling broadly and proudly.

“I blew up all of the explosives!” Jane laughed, “I even watched Medic run off to base like a big wussy!”

“I wouldn’t say he’s a wussy,” the Engiedoll smirked at the BLU Medic.

The Demoman laughed, “Man’s run off after getting smacked in the face!”

“Who smacked him?” the Soldier looked puzzled.

“This guy!” Demoman grabbed the BLU Medic around the shoulders with one arm and gave him a shake. He laughed as the Medic retreated into his hands, covering his face in embarrassment.

Soldier grabbed the Medic’s shoulders and shook him roughly. This was not meant to be jolly though. He looked a bit pissed.

“Why would you do that? That could have set him off! You don’t know what you’re doing with-” he was cut off as the Demoman gave the Soldier a gentle slap across the face.

“I meant he kissed him, mate,” Demoman said, a touch scornfully.

Realization struck the Soldier and his expression changed dramatically. He had a big stupid grin on his face. This time he shook the Medic and gave him a pat on the back.

“Good for you, son!” the Soldier cheered.

The Medic groaned and covered his face in embarrassment. He mumbled something in German that none of the others could understand. When he decided to be audible, he said, “I hate you all.”

Demoman and Soldier merely laughed. They both dragged him off to have beers and celebrate. They sure were in high spirits about the Medic’s triumph. Even the Engiedoll felt really good about this triumph for the Medic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boom!


	28. Storm Brewing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> RED Medic and Heavy get into a tussle. Engiedoll breaks it up and spends a bit of time talking with Heavy Weapons Guy. They miss out on a little prank that apparently left the RED team stressed out.

It was long after the drinking and partying that the Engiedoll ended up back in the RED base’s infirmary. He was feeling giggly, with a bit of the bubbly feeling in his head. Of course he was going to go tease the RED Medic about his new boyfriend.

He was not expecting to find him having a fist fight with the Heavy. The man was light on his toes, bouncing around and keeping out of range whenever the Heavy swung hard. He was good, backing out to dart back in with a few good jabs. Heavy on the other hand was much slower at moving, but he was often waiting, trying to grab at the Medic, like he might grab his hair and then just wail on him with the other hand.

“Doc? Heavy? What are you doing?” the Engiedoll felt like he was snapped out of his drunken stupor.

“Huh?” the Medic’s head turned, with a confused look on his face.

The Engiedoll watched in terror as the bigger man finally got his opening. He stepped in and clocked the medical professional in the face. His fist collided with the man’s jaw and set him spinning to the floor.

He ran over towards them, waving his arms wildly. He had to do something to dissuade the Heavy, before he could do anymore damage. He was not usually this way with teammates. He was usually gentle and kind, even if a bit rough around the edges with his attitude. If he was angry enough to hurt the Medic, he might be angry enough to commit treason and kill him.

“Wait! Stop! Stop!” the Engiedoll cried out, waving his arms wildly.

The big man did a double take and looked at the doll sadly. His hands dropped a bit and his eyes moved to the doctor. He did not look regretful of his actions. No, the Engiedoll was sure he was not regretful for punching him so hard he fell to the floor. Still, there was something very sad there.

The Medic was breathing heavily as he recovered, pulling his face off of the floor. He rubbed his jaw, shaking as he tried to measure the damage. From what the Engiedoll could see, his face would be thoroughly bruised, but he would be alright otherwise.

“Ah…Engie…” the Medic was chuckling nervously, but he was not looking at the Engiedoll.

“The hell are you two doing?” he demanded, looking from one man to the other.

“It is nothing,” the Heavy insisted, “Don’t worry about it.”

“Nothing?” Medic gave the Heavy a look of surprise. He froze for a moment, before he suddenly hurried to his feet. “Nothing?!” he pointed to his face, “You threw a fit over _my_ project!”

The Heavy was quiet. Still, the way he shifted from foot to foot was very obvious. There was something very concerning going on here. The Engiedoll just could not tell who he should be more concerned about.

“You promised it was ours,” the Heavy said, with a mournful tone.

The Medic took a breath, “Did I?” He paused to rub his face with his hands. “I shouldn’t have said it,” the Medic finally dropped his hands from his face, “I had too much reliance…too much faith…there was too much hope in this project working out. I probably shouldn’t have listened to the Engineer so much. He sounded so convinced it would work.”

“You are regretting choice?” Heavy asked.

“No…I don’t think so,” Medic sighed, looking down at the ground. He looked like he was thinking, with such an intense expression. “It may have failed…but we learned some things. We did bring back…something. We just…couldn’t get him to wake up.”

The Engiedoll bit his lip as the cues fit into place. They were discussing the project to bring back Francis McKragen. Part of him wanted to chew out the Medic for disregarding how Francis felt about it all. He decided not to because it was not his place and this was not the appropriate time.

“Could have…” Heavy took a deep breath, “Could have worked.”

“Yes well…” the doctor chuckled nervously and shifted his glasses on his nose.

The Engiedoll approached and touched the Heavy’s pant leg, “You alright, partner?”

The Heavy looked down at him, pausing. It must have been two breaths of just staring at each other before the big man spoke, “Is fine. Just…” He paused, hand going quickly to his face to rub his eyes.

“Gimme a lift up?” the Engiedoll asked, holding his arms up.

The Heavy went down to one knee and offered his hand palm up. He was a little surprised, given most people just scooped him up without a care about it. Then again, Heavy was always mindful of people. He was always showing that he cared by being thoughtful and gentle. That was something most people didn’t get to see of him, they were too busy seeing him as a big brute.

When the Engiedoll settled into the man’s huge palm, Heavy got to his feet again. He was quiet, trying to decide if he was done rubbing his eyes with the other hand or not. He seemed like he really needed to get out emotions before they broke like a dam up the river.

“Why don’t you two go have a talk?” the Medic spoke softly,

There was a long pause before Heavy said, “Da. This will do.”

Without any more provocation, Heavy left the infirmary. The Engiedoll was silent, listening silentl to the big man’s footsteps as they headed down the hallway together. He was surprised that he was brought into the Heavy’s personal quarters.

The room was just like anybody else’s room. It felt smaller though. It was not because of the big man, but rather because of his big furniture. A big bed sat in the corner. A twin bed was probably too small for him anyways. Much of the rest of the room was taken up by a big work desk covered in grime and gun parts. Surrounding it were big buckets with small parts. The man was easily set up and ready to repair a gun, or even to put one together from scratch.

Heavy sat down in the chair by the desk, setting the Engiedoll the nearby windowsill. The light trailing in was blocked only by the somewhat opaque pane. It seemed the man liked his privacy, so he had glass installed that prevented others from looking in and seeing his room.

“What’s got you beat, partner?” he turned his attention to Heavy. He might as well lead with this conversation, no need to beat around the bush with pleasantries here.

He gave a big sigh and closed his eyes. He looked sorrowful for a minute, as he let out the air from his chest. He took a few audible breaths, before he opened his eyes again. Teary blue eyes looked to the Engiedoll with a sensation like remorse that seemed to dig right into the Engiedoll’s heart.

“Is hard to express these feelings,” the Heavy explained, “Sometimes Heavy question if it is bigger feeling. Bigger than friend. Either way, Heavy misses friend.”

The Engiedoll frowned and nodded. It was touching and also heart wrenching to know that another teammate missed Francis McKragen. “You miss him, huh?”

Heavy nodded, turning his gaze to his hands in his lap. He was always a quiet type, the kind of man it was hard to get to talk. He was never this hesitant and reclusive though. Quiet was merely a state of being for the monstrously big man. It was not like he normally talked about emotions either, that was too touchy a subject for men like him.

He let the Heavy have some time to ruminate on this. He was breathing loudly, as if he needed more air than usual. Still, he waited, not wanting to push him too fast while he processed his emotions and thoughts.

“Heavy was…looking forward to see it work,” the man leaned back in his chair and folded his hands over his belly.

Ahh, that was the man Francis knew. That relaxed stance. He was finally opening up and ready to talk about it.

“I talked to doctor. I talked to Engineer,” the Heavy bobbled his head a bit as he spoke, “Both wanted what I wanted. I wanted to help, but…what can I do? I am Heavy Weapons Guy. I am not doctor or genius.”

The Engiedoll nodded, “It ain’t your fault, son.”

“Was wanted though,” the Heavy pressed, “Heavy wanted this to work. Heavy wanted to see friend again.”

“I know,” he said, trying to hold a soft and comforting tone.

“It was…I can’t remember whose…idea…” Heavy’s hands raised as he tried to contemplate who had come up with the idea in the first place. He sighed and placed them back on his stomach. “Heavy was foolish to get hopes so high,” he admitted.

“Nothing wrong with hope,” the Engiedoll replied, “I know you miss him. I know you wanted him back.” He offered Heavy a smile. “I think he would have wanted to be back to say howdy to you.”

The Heavy smiled back at him, “This is nice. Little doll is much like Engineer.”

He offered Heavy another smile, “I think that’s the point of me. Ain’t it?”

“Da,” the Heavy had a content smile, “Is good.”

 

They did not do so much actual _talking_ but they were in Heavy’s room for quite a few hours. Eventually, the big man’s stomach started to call for a sandwich. The two of them decided to head down to the kitchen to see what the others were up to.

Silence reigned over the mess hall. Four mercenaries were already there, silently shuffling from food to foot. Heavy proceeded to the kitchen to find the Pyro quietly trying to make some food. Their hand was shaky though, making them seem quite out of sorts.

“Little Pyro is okay?” Heavy asked them.

Pyro’s shoulders scrunched up and their head ducked low. They refused to look at him. They just sort of seemed like they were scared and did not want to talk to anybody.

Heavy seemed to get an idea and set the Engiedoll on the counter. He gave him a look, with a nod at the Pyro that hinted at the Engiedoll involving the Pyro in some conversation. Heavy moved towards the refrigerator to dig out materials for making a sandwich.

The Engiedoll stepped closer to the Pyro, “Hey there Pyro, what are you making?”

The Pyro muttered something he could not understand. He simply nodded, pretending he knew what the Pyro was saying. He put on his best smile, pretending to understand.

“Something wrong, buddy?” he asked, trying to peer at the Pyro’s face.

Pyro shook their head. They would not even look at the Engiedoll. In fact, they seemed to turn their head away.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, hoping that a listening ear would help them feel better.

“Pyro,” the Heavy interrupted, “Is there any mayo?” The big man rose from the fridge to look around.

Pyro picked up the jar of mayonnaise next to them and waved it. The bigger man smiled and walked over to accept it for his sandwich. He paused very suddenly, doing what very much looked like a double take.

Pyro tried to give him the mayonnaise and then pulled away. The Heavy grabbed their arm and pulled them close. His eyes were a bit wide as he tried to look them in the face. When they refused to cooperate, his other hand went to their mask, forcing their head to turn.

“Who did this?” Heavy’s big voice almost sounded like a growl.

The Pyro said something muffled. Neither of the other two could make it out. Heavy looked to the Engiedoll, who shrugged in response.

Heavy’s face grew red as he became riled up, “Was it RED?”

Pyro shook their head. They lowered their head, trying to look at the floor. They were not engrossed with this conversation and almost seemed ashamed. Of course, the Engiedoll was not sure what it was that the Heavy saw.

“So it was a BLU?” Heavy asked.

Pyro nodded in response. They still did not raise their gaze from the floor. Their arms hung limp at their sides, one hand holding the jar of white substance.

“Alright,” the Heavy breathed. He looked like he was ready to break through a wall and start tearing through people.

The Engiedoll peered up at him curiously, “What’s the matter, partner? No need to start a tussle.”

“Look! Look at Pyro’s face!” he forced Pyro’s head to turn so that the Engiedoll could see it.

He stared for a long minute, stumped. What was he supposed to be looking at? What was he looking for? Was there something he was not seeing here?

He was shaking his head when he realized that there was a hairline fracture through the Pyro’s right lens. It was miniscule enough to miss, yet the Heavy had spotted it. Was this what was making him angry? Why?

“Heavy, that’s just a fracture,” the Engiedoll pointed out, “He’s got plenty of replacement goggles and masks.”

“Heavy is sick of seeing this,” Heavy replied.

“Repeat of what exactly?” the Engiedoll inquired.

“Like other night,” Heavy explained, a bit more calmly, “Men get angry, so men fight.”

“You shouldn’t fight, if you think it’s wrong for them to be fighting,” the Engiedoll offered in response.

“Listen,” the Heavy requested, raising a hand. The Engiedoll fell silent, though he spared the Pyro a glance. Heavy cleared his throat before he went on, “Boxer is fighter. Da? Boxer use strong fists to do work. Not big surprise.”

The Engiedoll nodded in agreement, “This line of work requires fists, melee and guns, but I suppose they’re similar.”

Heavy nodded, “Boxer use fists in ring. Beats on opponent. Takes home win. Outside of ring? No. Not fighting. Does boxer fight other man because fists exist? No.”

“I see your point there,” the Engiedoll nodded, “But by the same virtue you shouldn’t go start a fight.”

“Let me finish,” the Heavy replied, sullenly, “Should boxer see bad thing…if boxer sees man do cruel thing to other people, what does he do? Does he stand by and wait? Does he watch?”

“I suppose that’s a heavy conundrum,” he took it in as a philosophical question to be answered by individual morals.

“Is not choice of whether is good or bad,” the Heavy replied, “Is about that bad man and boxer’s fists. Boxer use fist on bad man, so bad man learns never do it again.”

The Engiedoll was quiet as he listened. He thought about this for a minute, trying to think about the analogy. It made sense. It was not that the Heavy was saying what was right or wrong or good or bad, he simply meant that this was what fighters do.

“Pyro’s a fighter,” he reasoned aloud, “Pyro can stand up for himself. Don’t you think?”

“We fight men very hard,” the Heavy argued, “Every day. We do our job. We leave work, we don’t expect be fought.”

“Well…” the Engiedoll was nodding, “Shouldn’t the Pyro be standing up for himself though?”

“This isn’t about Pyro anymore,” the Heavy put a fist into his other hand and crackled his knuckles, “This about put man in place for behavior.” He turned his attention back to Pyro. “Which man do this? Was Pyro?”

Pyro shook their head. They did not seem any more enthused about the idea of Heavy going off to get revenge for them.

Heavy began to list each class on the BLU team. Pyro shook their head at each one, still completely disinterested. When he mentioned the Soldier, they paused. They did not seem sure about shaking their head, so instead they nodded.

“Da, will break Soldier,” Heavy stormed off.

The Engiedoll jumped onto Pyro’s shoulder. “Pyro, we can’t let him go off on his own,” he insisted, “Follow him.”

Pyro suddenly perked up, looking at the doorway where the Heavy left. He looked to the ragdoll Engineer and gave him a firm nod. They rushed from the kitchen, grabbing their axe on the way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nobody fucks with Pyro and gets away with it.


	29. Fight Me!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heavy is ready to throw down.  
> Both Spies got caught up in the BLU Soldier's vengeance.  
> Engiedoll is caught up in BLU Spy's work again. Only, he's not very willing this time.

There was no time to lose as the Pyro charged out after Heavy. The Engiedoll called after him, but the man seemed dead set on what he was doing. Pyro was at least not dissuaded, easily keeping up with the bigger man.

A quick glance over the shoulder told the Engiedoll that they were not alone either. The rest of the team, curious about what was going on, was following. Well, all except for Medic were following.

Somebody on BLU must have seen them coming, because a bunch of BLUs came out to meet them. Even the Scouts came out to see what was going on, escaping the BLU Sniper’s camper.

“Where is Soldier!” the Heavy demanded loudly.

“Probably off fussing with the Engineer,” the Demoman gestured dismissively, “Why?”

“Bring him out here,” the Heavy growled, “Now!”

“Can’t really do that, mate,” the Demoman argued.

“Why not?” the RED Scout asked.

“He’s a pissy guy,” the BLU Scout gave his counterpart a nudge.

“Doesn’t mean he can’t come out here for a fight,” the RED Scout gestured to the RED Heavy.

“BLU Soldier needs to come here, now!” the Heavy roared angrily.

“What is problem?” the BLU Heavy demanded.

“Soldier is pathetic man! Now bring him out here!” the RED Heavy had this stance about him, like he was ready for a fight. In fact, if the Engiedoll did not know better, he would have guessed that he was prepared to box.

“You’re going to fight the Soldier? On off hours? This’ll get ya in a lot of trouble,” the BLU Demoman told the RED Heavy, “I wanna see the lad get his licks as much as the next. This’d be the most entertaining thing to happen around here in a while. Maybe. Except for the other night.” He paused as he thought about the big fight that had ended the meeting dinner between the REDs and the BLUs. “Still, you’ve got to remember that there are consequences for every action!”

“I will take consequence,” the Heavy shifted his shoulders, as if trying to relax, “You tell puny Soldier to come here.”

The BLU Demoman looked over his shoulder to his teammates. They seemed at a loss for words too. A few shrugs went around and the BLU Scout ran in to tell the BLU Soldier that they were expecting him.

The quiet that followed felt like it was breathless. The unabashed onlookers were waiting to see a fight, no doubt expecting the bigger man to come out on top, easily.

This was the moment he probably should be saying something. He should have been calming them down. Hell, at that moment he was mentally kicking himself as he could not help but remain silent.

What could he say though? He had already said all that he could. The Heavy knew the consequences of picking a fight off hours.

Finally, the BLU Scout came running back out. He quickly rejoined the RED Scout, as if for some sort of moral support. Before anybody could ask him questions, the BLU Soldier and the BLU Engineer came trailing out of the base.

“Yea? What’s going on out here?” the Soldier called from the entrance as he marched towards the crowd.

His pal was quite distracted. The BLU Engineer did not even seem to notice that there was a crowd. He was too busy fussing with some contraption in his hands.

“Which of you numb-nuts started _this_ fiasco?!” the BLU Soldier demanded.

“He did!” the RED Soldier quickly pointed to the RED Heavy easily giving up his teammate.

Not that the Heavy minded. The man was already getting into a prepared stance. He eyed the BLU like he was about to kill him. He might just send him through respawn, which would garter bigger consequences than ever before.

“The hell is your problem, commie?” the BLU Soldier spat angrily.

“You!” the RED Sniper barked.

“You fucking lunatic!” the RED Demoman shouted in agreement.

“All of this over Pyro’s lens?” the Engiedoll asked himself, as he looked to each outraged man.

“What are you bloody on about?” the BLU Demoman exclaimed.

“This adrenaline junkie came onto RED territory and laid bombs all over our facilities!” the RED Soldier pointed to his BLU counterpart.

“The hell? What did you do that for?” the BLU Demoman rounded on his teammate.

“Revenge!” the BLU Soldier proclaimed loudly.

“Revenge for what, exactly?” the RED Demoman demanded loudly.

“This lazy wizard lover brought fireworks into _our_ domain! Nobody comes onto _my_ facility and sets off explosives in _my_ territory and goes home without a broken face!” the BLU Soldier pointed back at the RED.

“You idiot!” the BLU Demoman exclaimed, reaching out to smack the back of the BLU Soldier’s helmet.

“There were explosives around the facility?” the Engiedoll asked the Pyro whose shoulder he was standing on.

Pyro said something muffled, but the nodding was all the answer he needed. He paused to look around again, this time trying to actually look. Now that he was paying attention to them, he realized that a few of the REDs were covered in wounds. Bruises and broken lips were turning colors. Some burn marks and scorched clothing provided evidence to the blasts that had occurred.

“For your trespassing you will all know fear!” the BLU Soldier announced at the top of his voice.

The Engiedoll looked back at the Heavy. He was the only man who looked like he _could_ fight. No bruises and no wounds. The man was on his feet and ready for a fight.

“Soldier will know fear with broken lip,” the Heavy taunted, “Come fight me like man!”

“You wouldn’t know fighting like a man if it hit you in the face!” the BLU Soldier laughed.

The Heavy snarled, gritting his teeth. He looked ready to charge the American man. Hell, all of the REDs looked like they wanted to beat him up. Hell, even the Engiedoll wanted to give him a good punch to the face.

His train of thought was derailed as a hand snatched him up. Nobody seemed to notice that he had been grabbed, not even Pyro. Even as he voiced his discomfort and fear, not a single head turned to look.

He struggled and started kicking as the figure carrying him hurried around a corner. He looked up at the BLU Spy carrying him. It was only a breath before his brother, dressed in RED, joined him. The two looked like they too had been thrown into the mess of explosions. Each of them had scuff marks, burns, bruising and tattered clothing.

“What the hell is going on?” the RED Spy demanded.

“Apparently the BLU Soldier set off explosives around the RED base as vengeance for us setting off fireworks near BLU base,” the Engiedoll explained. He felt a pang of regret, remembering that he had told the RED Soldier to set off the fireworks. Nobody had gotten hurt though, it was just a distraction.

“ _Us_?!” the Spy exclaimed angrily.

“For the love of,” the BLU Spy sighed and shook his head.

“We don’t have time for this,” the RED Spy growled with irritation.

“What do you have to do?” the Engiedoll asked.

“I’m with him, this is not productive,” the BLU Spy threw a thumb back towards the direction they came from.

“It ain’t, but…what are you going to do?” the Engiedoll shrugged, “They’re fighters. They’ll fight.”

“That does not _necessitate_ fighting!” the Red Spy argued.

“That’s what I tried to explain,” the Engiedoll protested, “But they wouldn’t listen to me. So…they have to learn the hard way. Let them learn. They’ll get their consequences.”

“Engineer is supposed to be getting ready,” the BLU Spy said, irritably, “Heavy too.”

“Engineer and Heavy?” the Engiedoll gave him a puzzled look.

“The BLU Engineer and the BLU Heavy,” the BLU Spy explained, “I set them up for a date.”

“Oh lah dee dah,” the RED Spy rolled his eyes.

“If you two don’t mind,” the Engiedoll pointed in the direction they had come from, “I would like to get back to what’s happening.”

“Nonsense,” the BLU Spy lifted his free hand to silence him, “We’ve got work to do!”

“Work? What work?” the Engiedoll protested, before he was tucked halfway into the man’s satchel.

“Just stay out of trouble,” the RED Spy growled, glaring at his brother.

“Will do Leonard!” the BLU waved before taking off at a sprint.

 

The Spy was doing most of the work preparing a table for two. It was a small table, complete with candle light. That made the Engiedoll frown.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit small?” he asked.

“No no,” the BLU Spy waved off his concern at first, “Well…I suppose it is a little. Maybe I’ll find a bigger table.”

“And the candle? Really? I don’t reckon they’re too big into big gestures of romance.”

“It’s worked before,” the Spy shrugged in response.

“Doesn’t mean it’s always going to work,” the Engiedoll protested, “Besides…they’re probably riled up by the fight right now.” Man did he wish he could have seen what happened. The suspense of not knowing was killing him.

“Don’t worry,” the BLU Spy gestured dismissively again, “It will. It’s the perfect set up for romance between these two.”

“Not every first guess is going to be right,” the Engiedoll protested. He had learned that much so far. People were always much more complicated than they seemed to be.

“Don’t worry about it,” the Spy insisted.

“You’re putting in a lot of work that isn’t going to work,” the Engiedoll insisted, shaking his head.

“It’s going to work!” the Spy insisted sternly.

The Engiedoll was shaking his head, when a figure entered the room. He turned to see the BLU Engineer, whose face turned a little red. He ducked his face a bit, trying not to be too obvious about how embarrassed he was.

“Uh…hey Spy? Can we talk?” the Engineer asked hesitantly.

“Sure, Engineer!” the Spy put on a delighted tone as he beckoned the Engineer into the room.

The man took a minute as he toddled forward. That familiar look of “oh boy” covered the man’s visage as he took in the romantic set up with candles. He turned his attention to the Spy’s face as he finally spoke.

“I uh…I don’t think I can go through with this,” the Engineer explained.

“What? Go through with what?” the Spy looked so confused.

“Uh…well…” the Engineer wrung his hands nervously, one covered in a glove, hiding the metal prosthesis, “This um…this date thing you have us doing.”

“The date?” the Spy blinked at him. He took a moment and then suddenly started putting out the candles. “I can remove the overly romantic stuff! I can remove the candles and such!” He hurriedly started knocking the candles off of the table, which just made a mess of broken wax on the floor.

“No no…it’s not that,” the Engineer gave a nervous smile, “I just…don’t think I can do this.”

“Why not?” the Spy’s voice grew a little shrill.

“I just…I don’t think it’s right,” the Engineer replied, shying away a little, “I don’t think I can.”

“But- I- You-” the Spy cut off as a bigger figure filled the door way.

The Engineer spun around with a gasp. He looked very frightened, “Heavy! I’m sorry…I- it’s not you, I swear!”

The big man let out a big breath, “No, is fine. Heavy is relieved.” The man bowed his head and backed out of the doorway.

“No wait!” the Spy took off after the retreating man, “Heavy!” The Spy’s voice trailed away down the hall.

The Engineer licked his lips, “Well, that’s that.” He started to the door himself.

“Wait! Wait!” the Engiedoll called after him, not wanting to be alone.

“Sorry pal,” the Engineer paused and offered him an awkward grin, “I’m not feeling it.”

“Er…take me with you?” the Engiedoll requested, “I don’t wanna be stuck here by my lonesome.”

“Oh…” the Engineer glanced around, as if looking for the Spy. When he did not find what he was looking for, he approached the table and hesitated. “Do I…uh…just pick you up?” he asked.

“Gimme your hand, son,” the Engiedoll requested.

The BLU held out his hand and the Engiedoll climbed into his palm. He hesitated, waiting to be sure that the doll was properly in place, before he started out the door again. He was quiet, seemingly too nervous to speak again. That or he just could not think of anything decent to say.

The Engiedoll was equally silent as they came to the Engineer’s workshop. The door creaked loudly, then banged as it shut. That did not cover the sound of a relieved breath being released, as the Engineer strode through his domain.

He seemed like a whole different person, much more like the man that the Engiedoll remembered on the battlefield. He even grinned a bit as he set the Engiedoll down on a work bench. He turned to switch his camouflage ball cap out for his yellow hard hat. The man was back in his element.

“Reckon you can give me a hand,” the Engineer pulled up a stool to sit down. He rolled open a set of blue prints.

“What with?” the Engiedoll walked over to get a better look. He was not sure what he was looking at, at first.

“A new project,” the Engineer replied, “Bet it’d relieve us of a lot of grief too.”

After a minute of study, the Engiedoll realized that it was a prototype for a respawn back up. A back up machine in theory would probably save them in the event of a respawn shut down. He could only grin at the thought of what that meant for his friends.

“Let’s get to it, partner!” he gave the Engineer a grin.

The Engineer grinned back at him, apparently as enthused about the idea as he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew. This felt like running a marathon. I've been waiting to get to this part! After this comes dubious events!


	30. Hellfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Engiedoll has decided that it's up to the Engineer what he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Major character death ahead

The Engiedoll was not sure when he last had this much fun. The BLU Engineer, clad in blue overalls and a leather apron, was soaked in sweat as he heated up the flames. He soaked right through that white undershirt he left on, rendering it an almost unnecessary accessory.

The Engiedoll was cranking a grip. It would hold a chunk of metal in place for the Engineer to hammer it into shape. He wished he could do more, but at lease he could help the man multitask with the little things.

It was not really that he wanted to be helpful by any means. Rather, he just wanted to _do_ more. He wanted to work the smithy. He wanted to feel the hammer against the skin of his hand. He wanted to feel the way his muscles burned as he worked tirelessly over the metal project.

Oh how he missed that feeling. Strange with how painful and tiring work could be. Laziness was not a thing that the Engineer met well with though.

He could remember back in the day when everybody called him lazy. Sure, there was plenty of time spent in a lounge chair with a few beers. He was probably laziest while on the job. But when he was with the forge and amidst his projects, he was working harder than most had ever seen him work.

He missed the way that steel would flex beneath his power. It had made him feel powerful, like a strong mighty being. And as it took on just the right shape, he would smile in satisfaction.

He remembered putting together his first sentry from scratch, ignoring the usual blue prints. It was not necessary to make it from scratch, as said blueprints were around with necessary parts. One did not need a forge to make it. He just wanted to prove to himself that he could do it, and put all of that work and effort into it. Man was that a good feeling.

The Engineer wiped his hands on a dirty white rag as he made his way over. His boots clicked against the hardwood floors covered in wood shavings. His goggles were pushed up to reveal his eyes looking at the metal being held into place.

“Much obliged partner,” the man said, as he picked up his tool of choice.

“Weren’t no thing,” the Engiedoll smiled.

“Doing all that cranking must be tiring on a little body,” the Engineer said, before he began to hammer down on the metal. Each clang was loud and sharp, clipping into the ears like a knife.

“Nah, it’s alright,” the Engiedoll insisted, watching as the hammer came down on the metal again and again.

“You work with the RED Engineer a lot, I bet,” the BLU guessed.

“Nah,” he sighed, remembering that Calvin had run off. Where had he gone? Why had he gone?

“Well, it’s right nice of you to help out,” the Engineer paused, turning the crank the other way to loosen the grip.

“To be honest,” the Engiedoll’s eyes were trained on the man’s hands, watching him work, “I miss it. I miss the forge. I miss work. I miss smithing.”

“Guess you really do have… _his_ memories, don’t ya?” the Engineer paused to look at him. His goggles were covering his eyes now, so he could only tell by the way his head shifted.

He shrugged in response, “I guess I do.”

“Well, you stay safe and you can help out in here any time you like,” the Engineer shifted the metal and turned the crank to tighten the grip again.

“Anything else I can help with?” the Engiedoll asked curiously.

“Well, lemme see,” the man looked around his work shop, rubbing his jaw, “Suppose you could sort through the screws.” He gestured to a table with various containers of bolts, nuts, nails and screws, “I made a mess of them this morning. Don’t know why I was…so jittery.”

“Any reason why?” the Engiedoll did a hop skip over to the table from the table the Engineer was working on. It paid that the tables ended up crammed close together, just far enough apart that the man could squeeze between them.

“Reckon I uh…well dating’s not a natural thing to me,” the Engineer chuckled nervously.

He looked over to the Engineer as he picked up a screw. The Engineer paused for thought before he pointed, “We’ll need some half inch screws and some quarter inch screws. Think I got some nails mixed in there though. We won’t need no nails.”

“Got it,” the Engiedoll smiled and nodded as he started sorting.

The Engineer turned back to his work, the clang of metal on metal filling the workshop. The heat was starting to get to the Engiedoll, who took to sorting a little slower. Felt did not sweat on its own, it just began to feel hotter and hotter.

That was the price of working in a smithy type of workshop though. That was the way things when you worked in a small space, with metal and fire. You needed heat to soften the metal, and you needed softer metal to make what you needed.

“You uh…didn’t want that date then?” he called to the Engineer.

“Hmm?” the man paused what he was doing, “What was that?”

“I said, you didn’t want that date then?” he repeated himself.

“Um…well…” the Engineer’s face was red, though he was not sure if it was from the heat or from embarrassment.

“You don’t have to want a date,” the Engiedoll insisted, “I know Spy’s gotten…a little ahead of himself. I sure as hell lost track of what he’s doing. He’s gone and forgotten why I started this in the first place.”

The Engineer chuckled awkwardly, “Hee…heh…yea…he um…he um dove right for the idea that me and Heavy should be a couple.”

“Did you agree to the date cause of Spy?” the Engiedoll asked.

“Uh…well…” the man’s face grew redder, “Ah shucks. Is it that obvious?”

“Obvious?” the Engiedoll felt a little concerned that he might have gotten onto something without realizing, “What’s obvious?”

“That I…” the Engineer fidgeted with the hammer awkwardly. His attention started pouring into that hammer, as if it was the most important thing on his mind right now.

“You don’t have to say it if you don’t want to,” the Engiedoll assured him, “You choose what you wanna tell me.”

“Well, to be honest, I like Spy,” the Engineer flinched as that came out of his mouth. Maybe he was not sure he should say that or he was scared that the secret was finally out.

“Oh,” was all the Engiedoll could say to that. That was something incredibly new.

When it came to the BLU Spy, he was not sure who he would get along best with. BLU Spy seemed like a rogue on his own. If anybody would have been his best bet, it would have been the RED Spy. They were brothers though, which made it easy to see why they would get along so well.

The Engineer must have been rather fond of the Spy though. Maybe he trusted him well enough, ignoring and barring all possibilities of treason. The Engiedoll did not peg the BLU Spy for a traitor himself, but that was only after he became a ragdoll. If he was honest with himself, back in the day, he never would have trusted the snake. Hell, he still barely trusted the RED Spy.

“You uh…you gonna tell him?” the Engineer asked nervously. He was shifting from foot to foot nervously.

“Do you want me to tell him?” the Engiedoll replied, “I won’t tell him if you don’t want me to. I ain’t a snitch.”

“Oh…well…it’s just,” the Engineer looked disheartened, “It’s hard for me to…say what I feel. I say what I know, that’s easy enough. Building and putting things together, this stuff is easy!”

The Engiedoll chuckled and nodded, “Amen to that!”

“People though…” the Engineer turned his head away, looking down at the metal he had been working on, “I couldn’t bring myself to tell him what I think of him. Wish I could. I can’t.”

“Well, why not?” the Engiedoll asked.

“I get all…” he dropped his hammer on the table, “Flustered and shit. I lose myself in those eyes. I forget where I’m at when he’s talking. I start agreeing to things before I know what’s happening.”

“You…I mean,” the Engiedoll paused for thought, “I’ve never seen you be flustered around him. Before, you seemed fine around him.”

“Ah sure, it looks that way,” the Engineer chuckled, “But I…I can’t face my feelings.”

“You should,” the Engiedoll insisted.

The Engineer paused, scratching at his cheek with an index finger, “I uh…I don’t think I can. It’s just…too much.”

“He’d be grateful if you did,” the Engiedoll assured him.

“Yea…but what if he said no?” the Engineer turned to him.

“So what if he did?” the Engiedoll asked, “It would be no different than not saying anything.”

“It’s riskless to say nothing,” the Engineer turned back to his work and picked up his hammer, “No tarnishing friendships. No making people unhappy. No making anybody uncomfortable.”

“Nobody’s going to be uncomfortable,” the Engiedoll insisted.

“I ain’t gonna bullshit around it,” the Engineer started adjusting the metal again, “I won’t be pussyfooting it. I’m just…gonna step down from all of that. My place is in the workshop. I work with machinery. It’s what I do best. It’s what I know best.”

“Engineer,” he interrupted.

“Don’t try to convince me otherwise,” the Engineer growled, slamming louder against the metal. He was hitting it too hard. The metal was going to bend too far and be in the wrong shape.

“I won’t,” he frowned with worry.

“I ain’t going to change my mind!” the Engineer barked.

“Alright then,” he put his hands up defensively.

“Don’t think I’m no pushover either!” the Engineer said, shaking his head as he pounded at the metal.

“Alright! Alright! I won’t push you!” the Engiedoll insisted as loudly as he could to speak over the banging of metal on metal.

 

When the Engiedoll had finished sorting the screws he hopped off of the table. The Engineer was still working fervently. He turned away, stepping out of the door into the hallway. It was much cooler out here, where the fresh air was.

Wanting to feel even more refreshed, he made his way down the hall and outside. It was still hot out in the desert air, but it was better than the shop. He had forgotten how hot and thick the air could get in a workshop.

The Engineer was probably forgetting. He was so focused on his work that he was not going to look up. He probably did not even know that the Engiedoll had left.

He took a deep breath as he stepped out onto the sandy cement outside. This was not his base, but it might as well be. The parallels between the two bases and the two teams were too close.

Then again, there was a lot of separation between the two. The RED Spy was vastly different from the playful and friendly BLU Spy. He was like a hardened warrior compared to his brother.

RED Demoman was rough around the edges. He liked to make fun of people. He certainly liked having a laugh. It contrasted so highly to the friendly and emotional BLU Demoman.

The BLU Sniper had been so friendly and accepting of the Scouts that it seemed impossible to compare him to the RED. That was not to say that the RED Sniper was a cruel and heartless being. It was easy to judge his behavior from the past month as his personality. Maybe grief just changed people, but it certainly did not fit him well and did not parallel with the BLU Sniper.

BLU Soldier was a brute at best. That was all that the Engiedoll know about him. Jane on the other hand was such a sweet and happy go lucky type of person that it was hard to see parallels. They were just too different to be called the same.

He wondered how similar or different he was to the BLU Engineer. Or at least, how similar or different Francis McKragen he was. They might have been so similar. Then again, Francis never had any expressed feelings about anyone, so maybe that was a difference between them.

“Oh there you are, Engineer!” the BLU Spy’s voice interrupted.

The Engiedoll looked up to the approaching Spy. He ducked down to scoop him right up without a word. He had this joyous smile on his face.

“You’re just in time! We’re going to see the Engineer!” the Spy said, cheerfully.

“We?” the Engiedoll asked, feeling a bit exasperated. He would not push the Engineer into doing something he did not want to, but he felt the man just needed time to come out about his feelings to the Spy.

“Yes! Me and-” Spy cut off as he looked around, “Heavy? Where did you go?”

“I don’t know,” the Engiedoll shrugged.

“Oh lord,” the Spy sighed. He made his way towards the workshop anyways.

Much to their surprise, they found that the BLU Heavy was mostly blocking the entrance already. He stood there, hands shaking ever so slightly. They shifted nervously with sweaty palms. The man looked like he was going to run away he was so scared.

“You can do it,” the Spy reached out and patted his back with his free hand.

The Heavy glanced at him, before turning his attention back to the Engineer. He moved a little to the side, letting the Spy join him in the workshop. They found that the Engineer still had his work gear on and his hammer in hand. He flinched when he saw the Spy enter the room.

“Heavy has something he would like to say!” the Spy said, with an assuring smile.

“D-da,” the Heavy stammered. He shifted his feet nervously.

The Engiedoll patted the Spy’s gloved hand, “This ain’t gonna help anything. You should leave the man alone to work.”

“Nonsense! Heavy, please continue,” the Spy insisted.

“Heavy don’t!” the Engiedoll piped up.

“Did you tell him?!” the Engineer had an accusatory tone in his voice.

“I didn’t tell anybody anything!” the Engiedoll replied.

“Please stop making this about you,” the Spy said to the Engiedoll.

He fell silent. He was somehow shaken by that statement. Make this about himself? How? How had he made this about himself?

“Heavy h-has confession,” the big man in the room spoke slowly.

There was a barely audible moan from the Engineer. There was silence for a few moments as the Heavy swallowed his nervousness. He was shifting nervously, moving around ever so slightly.

“I can go if it would make you feel better,” the Spy offered in a soft tone.

“Yea, that might be best,” the Engineer said, coolly.

“Is better if Spy stay,” the Heavy replied, with a shake of his head.

“Spy this isn’t how you think it is,” the Engiedoll finally spoke.

“Heavy would like to say-” the big man’s voice filled the room, until he was silenced by a raised hand.

The Engineer did not look amused. In fact, he looked a little peeved. The Engiedoll could see that he was chewing on the inside of his lip though, struggling with emotions on the inside. He probably had so much he wanted to say.

“Look, partner,” the Engineer said, slowly lowering his hand, “I know what you’re going to say. It ain’t like every man can accept something like that. I accept that you are…who you are…but I don’t…I don’t want that.”

There was a long pause for silence. The Engiedoll wanted to say something, to scream about what the Engineer should confess. Not that he wanted to tell them all what it was about, just to urge the man to rip the bandage off and get it over with. He would feel better about all of this if he did.

“Y-you know?” the Heavy sounded so disappointed.

“Yea,” the Engineer nodded a little, keeping his gaze low so he did not have to meet anyone’s eyes, “I do know. I get it. And I’d rather go on with our friendship as it always has been. If you don’t say it, we can pretend it’s not there and still be friends. Right?”

“Da,” the Heavy accepted reluctantly.

Both of the Spy’s hands were gripping the Engiedoll now. They were gripping him tight. In fact, they were shaking a little bit. He grew concerned that he might accidentally tear the ragdoll’s head off.

“What? That’s it?!” the Spy demanded, “You’re just going to push him away like a bastard?!”

The Engineer rounded on the Spy like it was nothing, “You walk around with your own feelings just like the rest of us. Not all of us can be paired up like this is some sort of match making show. Some of us don’t want that. Some of us just want to work and get on with our lives!”

“Where is the happiness in that? Where is the enjoyment in that?!” the Spy demanded, growing more and more angry.

“I don’t need your pairing for enjoyment! I got my own enjoyment! I don’t gotta match up to your expectations just like everybody else!” the Engineer shook his hammer at the Spy.

Spy stepped towards him, setting the Engiedoll on a table. He moved towards the Engineer to get more involved in the confrontation. The Engiedoll watched with agony in his chest as the two started shouting.

“You call this happiness? You just become a recluse and stick to the lifeless machinery?” the Spy demanded angrily.

“It’s my life! And these are my things! This is _my_ happiness!” the Engineer put a hand on the metal he was working on before.

“To be fair,” the Engiedoll butted in, “A man can be as fulfilled in his life by work. You don’t have to go around and try to find happiness for other people.”

The Spy raised a hand to him to silence him, “You stay out of this!”

“Please Spy,” the Heavy took a half step forward. The Engiedoll had never seen the man look so timid or scared before.

“What? We all gotta play by _your_ rules now, Spy?” the Engineer demanded, shaking his hammer in the Spy’s face.

“This is not _my_ rules! This is just-” Spy was cut off as the Engineer smacked the hammer onto the table.

“I ain’t buying what you’re selling! So back the fuck off!” the Engineer roared.

There was a moment’s breath before the Heavy spoke again, “Spy, let’s go.”

“No,” the Spy barked, raising a hand to Heavy.

The Engiedoll leaped from the table he was on to another table. He wanted to move closer to the Engineer. Whatever the man chose was his own decision. If he was most happy working on his projects, than that was all he needed. He did not need to be matched up with somebody, nor did he have to confess his feelings for the Spy. He could just be himself in his workshop.

“Engie?” the Spy gave the Engiedoll a questioning look.

The Engiedoll gave the Engineer a nod, “It’s up to him what he does.”

“I’m not telling him he can’t choose what he does!” the Spy exclaimed.

“Then let me live my life my way,” the Engineer demanded.

“Let Heavy process this!” the Spy spat.

“Ain’t nobody got to do nothing your way, Spy! You infuriating asshole!” the Engineer’s hand went to the table. The Engiedoll would have guessed that it was bolted to the floor, but lo and behold it flipped over.

He closed his eyes, ready to feel the ground hit his body. It would not kill him, it would just hurt. He decided to tuck and roll so he pulled his body together, tucking his knees against his chest.

He was not ready to feel the burn. At first he was surprised. The feeling of landing hard distracted him. He rolled but apparently not far enough in the right direction. He leaped to his feet and screamed as he realized that he had fallen into the open furnace.

There was only flames and burning. There was the crackle of fire. His screams filled his ears. His legs betrayed him as he fell. He watched as blackness overtook his sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story isn't over. Stay tuned for more.


	31. The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The End. Or is it?

“Engineer! No!” the BLU Spy was the first to leap past the table and grab at the burning doll.

“Stop! You’ll burn yourself!” the BLU Engineer hurried around the table, hustling to grab something to grab him with.

Still, the Spy reached in with determination. Flames licked at his leather gloves. They melted and burned away as the flames began to redden his skin.

He quickly pulled away, bringing the doll to his chest. He panted heavily, crawling backwards. He hoped to get to the door, away from the heat and away from the fires.

“Spy!” the Heavy grabbed Spy by his arms and pulled him to his feet.

“Don’t rush him to his feet!” the Engineer was rushing between tables to get to the Spy.

“Spy is alright?” Heavy asked with concern.

“Oh hell. Oh no,” the Engineer was muttering as he charged towards him.

“Engineer, Spy needs doctor!” the Heavy proclaimed.

“Alright…alright,” the Engineer was shifting from foot to foot nervously, “I’ll get Medic, you keep an eye on him.”

The Engineer took off without another word. Heavy directed Spy to a chair, gentle and concerned. He did not leave Spy’s side though, gently holding onto his elbow.

Spy whimpered at the pain in his hands. The fingers trembled to open, but he knew the moment he opened them it would hurt. He would not be able to hold onto the burnt doll. He had to make sure he was okay though.

“Heavy catch him,” Spy pleaded.

“Catch who?” the Heavy asked, shifting from foot to foot.

“Catch the Engie,” he pleaded, “I can’t hold him.”

A big hand dropped down below his hands. Relieved by the response, Spy opened his fingers and let out a pained cry. His hands hurt so bad and he hated it. He forced himself to breathe though, and not think about the fear of a Pyro running in to burn the rest of his body.

“How is he,” Spy huffed, trying to ignore the pain in his hands.

“He’s…” Heavy did not finish speaking.

Spy finally looked at the doll in the man’s hand. It was limped and burnt. Half of the face was burned and melted. An arm was no longer there.

“N-no!” Spy gasped, “No!”

“Little doll has…been burned,” the Heavy told him, as if he could not see that.

“I know that! No! This can’t be!” he reached out and gently nudge the doll with a finger, “Engie?”

It did not stir. It did not even squeak or groan in pain. There was no more life in the magical doll.

“It’s…” Heavy did not finish his thought. He set the doll aside and turned his attention to the Spy.

Spy hopped to his feet, wanting to look at the doll again. Surely there was something they could do. There had to be a way to save him.

“Spy, please sit,” Heavy said, pushing him back to the chair.

“The Engineer! The Engie! He needs-” he cut off as two men came running into the room.

“What happened? What’s going on?” the Medic rushed in with the Engineer trailing behind him.

“Spy is burned!” the Heavy exclaimed, gesturing to Spy’s appendages.

“Here, let me tend to that,” the Medic walked over with his medigun.

The Engineer slunk off to a corner though. Spy’s attention moved from his hands as the Medic worked on them, to the torched doll on the table. He was dead. That much was clear, even if they could not check for a heart beat.

His eyes rose to look over at the Engineer. The Heavy toddled over to him. At first, it seemed like the Engineer just did not want to be around him. Slowly though, it seemed that he was breaking down, while the bigger man quietly tried to comfort him.

The Spy closed his eyes and sank into his feeling of despair. This was it. This was the end for the poor little Engineer. He had been standing on the wrong table at the wrong time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not the end.


	32. Alive, Awake, Alright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See? It's not the end.

Engiedoll opened his eyes. Where was he? There was only the sensation of being cold. Was he dead? Was he in limbo? Was this his hell?

He shifted a little. His palms went to his sides and found that the surface beneath him was smooth and cold. It was like smooth metal. That was fine.

He raised his hands, though he could not see in the darkness. Above him was another surface, smooth and cold to the touch. Two sides of metal, so his mind filled in the blanks and assumed that this was some sort of metal box.

He decided not to panic, reaching out to his sides first. They were equally spaced from his body. They were also flat to the touch, cool and metallic.

He reached up above his head and easily found another surface. That had to mean that by his feet was another one. He wriggled around in the dark, trying to move a little lower. That was when he noticed there was a blanket over him. Why he had not noticed it before was beyond him.

He pushed the blanket out of his way as he scooted down to try and feel around. Another could surface touched his feet, sending a shiver up his spine. Surrounded by cold metal he felt even colder than before. At least his breath felt warm, so he could try and warm his freezing hands.

When he was done assuring himself, he started feeling the spaces above and below him. He kicked at the metal below his feet, hoping to try and get it open. He reached above his head and tried banging that open too.

He must have been banging for a long time before he began to feel a prickling sensation on his arms. He rubbed his hands over his arms, trying to warm them up. He was freezing cold. Why though?

Muffled voices came from somewhere outside. Fear and joy intertwined as he began banging on the surface beneath his feet. When he saw no results, he started banging his palms on the surface above his head.

Desperate to get their attentions, he started kicking on the panel below. He was too short to reach both ends, so he decided just to bang below. He closed his eyes and wished for it to work.

He stopped to listen. The voices were getting closer, drawing and nearer and nearer as if they were walking. Yes! he thought. They would hear him and they would come to save him!

He started to kick again just as something clicked. He listened as the door opened and light filled the box he was in. Suddenly he was sliding. He was not sliding over something, rather something under him was pulling him out.

He cringed as the bright light hit him. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut. It had to be the light from the fires of hell.

“You see?” a voice overhead startled him.

He peeled his eyes open, forcing himself to look around, in spite of the bright painful light. To his surprise, there was no yellow or orange, only white and red and blue. He blinked through the bleariness as he began to see two figures appearing. One was clad in white and red. The other was clad in white and blue. The white light, apparently not a fire at all, was obscuring them from his vision.

“There’s nothing in here to make a sound but a body,” the RED Medic’s voice was clear as daylight now.

He looked to the man in red and white, his eyes feeling teary. “Doc,” he called out weakly.

The man spun to look at him. Both figures were definitely seeing him now, as he tried to prop himself up on his elbows. There were a couple of gasps, then a flurry of some foreign language, probably German, which was spoken between both people in the room.

He was pushed back down and eventually ushered onto a gurney. The warmth of blankets wrapped around him and quiet sleep welcomed him. It felt nice to just close his eyes.

 

When he woke up, he felt so refreshed. The rejuvenating need to get up put a spring in his buttocks. The moment his feet hit the floor he realized he should not have gotten up so fast.

He managed to grab a handful of the gurney and pull himself up. His weak legs nearly gave out from under him. He would need a lot of practice walking again it seemed.

That was when it hit him. It hit him all at once. The sudden growling in his gut, the weak tension in his legs, the urge to pee, and the solid feeling in his arms and legs that came with having bones.

He looked at his hand, “I’m…human.”

“Herr Engineer! You shouldn’t be up yet!” the Medic came in, tromping across the room.

Medic helped him up and shifted him onto the gurney. The Engineer needed another minute to get his bearings though. He was human and not a doll, so it must have been a dream? He was not sure about that. It all seemed so vivid in his mind.

“You have given us quite a scare!” the Medic chuckled nervously as he situated the Engineer on the gurney.

The Engineer groaned, “I gotta pee doc.”

“That’s fine, you have a catheter,” the man replied, paying more attention to his busy hands writing something on a clipboard.

With a grimace, the Engineer pulled aside the blanket. He was covered by a blue hospital robe that felt like nothing more than a tablecloth. He did not have to actually look to know it was there.

“Well, take it out!” he insisted.

“If you would rather piss in a bedpan,” the Medic shrugged.

“I would rather use the toilet,” the Engineer sat up, “Now kindly remove this catheter before I put my foot up your ass!”

 

He did not know where he got this irritable attitude as of late. He kept snarking at the Medic all day. It eventually drove the man out of the room, leaving him beneath the healing rays of the medigun.

The medigun made him feel even more rejuvenated than he ever remembered. He eventually did pull himself out of bed and toddled out into the infirmary. It was as clean, white and quiet as it could be.

He found the bathroom easily, a room set aside for patients. Strangely enough, the Medic had not moved him from the room to stay in the infirmary as any other patient would have. He ignored that thought in lieu of his bathroom break.

He laid back down where he had been though. He wanted to be under the healing rays of the medigun, so that he could feel at peace. It was even making him feel stronger than before.

 

When the Medic eventually came back, he was walking around fairly easily. He had spent the day trying to move around more. While it might have taken a normal patient weeks of recovery, he only needed the day with the influence of the medigun. It certainly must have been a special medigun to work this well too.

“You’re quite mobile!” the Medic said cheerfully.

“Yea!” the Engineer replied just as cheerfully, “That medigun you got there has been pumping me full of feeling twenty two again!”

Medic chuckled nervously, “Well, it is still a prototype. It’s not allowed on the field yet.”

“I’ll be glad to see it get onto the field,” the Engineer smiled, grateful to know he was not crazy in thinking the machine seemed to be working overtime on his body.

“Yes…huh…” the Medic chuckled again.

“Think I’ll be needing some actual clothes,” he gestured to the robe he was wearing.

“Right,” the Medic hesitated, “That’s going to be a problem.”

“Why’s that?” he said, not bothering to think about it.

“Well…I…” Medic paused for thought, trying to reason out why, “You’ve been…dead for months…nothing of yours…is here anymore.”

He felt he should feel more panicked, yet he felt so calm. It was as if the dream had prepared him for this. He was not supposed to be alive, so assuming he had died his things would be all gone.

“Reckon I’ll need new things then,” the huffed a sigh and rubbed his hands together.

“Ah…yes…I can find out if one of our teammates is heading to town,” the Medic offered.

“What about the current Engineer? Is he around? Maybe he’s got overalls my size,” he suggested.

“We don’t have an Engineer,” the Medic sighed, “I’ll go talk to the others and see what I can find.”

When the Medic left, Engineer was in total silence. It had to have been a dream then. If there was no Engineer around, then Calvin Rubein never existed. That was a disheartening thought. At the same time, it left him with space to step back in with his team.

There was something that tugged at the back of his mind though. There was a small feeling like it all _should_ be real. He should still be a ragdoll because then his friends would be happy. BLU Spy would be going around trying to play match maker. BLU Sniper would be with the Scouts making them happy. BLU Demoman would be friends with the RED Soldier. If none of that happened, then their relationships were not real. That left regret embedded in his chest.

The Medic returned rather quickly, “Engineer! Ah! Good news. We figured you’re the BLU Engineer’s size and…well…he’s agreed to lend you some clothing for the time being!”

He offered a smile, though was not sure why he felt a weird sensation. Maybe it was dread. He was not entirely sure what to think of that.

“That’s awful kind of him,” he said.

“Indeed,” the Medic brought forth the set of clothing, putting it in the Engineer’s hands, “Why don’t you get dressed?”

“Thank you kindly,” he said as he took the clothes.

“I’ll be waiting for you outside,” the Medic insisted, “Everybody’s going to want to meet you.”

“Meet me? Is the team all new or something?” he pulled his head back feeling confused.

“Well no,” Medic shook his head, “You’ve been dead so long that everybody’s…changed.”

“I see,” the Engineer gave him a nod, “I’m gonna go put these on,” he shifted the clothes in his hands.”

“Good…good idea,” Medic went to his desk while the Engineer retreated to the room in the back.

He found that the clothes fit almost perfectly! Who would have thought him and the enemy Engineer would be the same size. It was a bit awkward though, seeing blue on his shoulder. He remembered wearing red for so long that blue just felt like a bad thing to be wearing. Given how often the enemy shooting at him was wearing blue, he would probably never get rid of that mental itch about the color.

When he came back out, the doctor had left his desk. He found him waiting outside of the infirmary doors. He turned to greet the Engineer alongside none other than the BLU Engineer.

The BLU gave a nervous smile and tilted his head down, “Evening, partner.”

“Is it already?” Francis paused with his hands at the straps of the overalls, “Thanks for lending me these. I’ll be sure to keep ‘em clean for when I return them.”

“Don’t mind it at all,” the BLU Engineer gave him a hesitant and awkward smile.

Was everybody acting strangely now? Surely they had not changed _that_ much. It was already weird enough that they let a BLU wander right onto base.

“I’m sure everybody would like to see you, Engineer,” Medic interrupted, breaking whatever tension was forming there.

“Yea,” Francis smiled and nodded in agreement.

He followed the Medic down the hallway, falling into step with the man who had lent him this attire. He could not help but feel like the man might be looking at him a bit too much though. A glance every once in a while. Turning to look at him for a while, then quickly turning back when Francis tried to look back at him.

He understood that he had been dead for a while, but they had seen stranger things. They had seen skeletons walk and talk and even fight, why would him being alive now change anything? Surely he was not the oddest thing walking around here. He was fully human, he had double checked that.

The Medic cleared his throat as he blocked the entrance to the mess hall. The two Engineers had to stop there. They were both watching his back as he addressed what was probably the rest of the team.

“S-so…we told you that there was something important,” the Medic said with awkward nerves, “And that I was going to do things the right way…with this anyways.”

“Come on, doc! Nobody’s getting younger here!” the RED Scout called from inside the mess hall. It gave Francis a little chuckle.

“Well, I don’t want you all to be as shocked as I was when you find this out,” the Medic explained.

“I think they can handle it, doc,” the BLU Engineer piped up from behind him.

“We’ve got things to do here!” the RED Soldier shouted.

“Ain’t got all the time in the world, pal!” was that the BLU Scout? No, that had to be the RED Scout. The two of them just sounded a lot alike.

The BLU Engineer reached over carefully to pat his shoulder, “Sorry pal. We haven’t told them about you yet.”

“They think I’m still dead?” he inquired.

The BLU Engineer nodded and did not say a word. He let his hand fall as he turned his attention back to the Medic and the mess hall. Francis did the same, wondering how his team might react to his return. Did they miss him like in his dream?

“To lessen the blow of everything, I would ask that you remain seated and stay quiet,” the Medic was explaining.

“Ah, here you go, partner,” the BLU Engineer turned to him and handed him a hardhat.

He turned the hardhat in his hands, “Oh, thank you kindly. You didn’t have to.”

“What are you trying to say?” the RED Scout scoffed at Medic.

“Weren’t no thing,” BLU Engineer insisted, “Besides…ain’t really mind. Another Engineer left it behind. Seemed fitting it should be used by somebody.”

Francis put the hat on his head, with a smile of gratitude. The yellow suited either RED or BLU, and it certainly felt comfortable on his head.

“I’m saying don’t be loud and don’t all rush him,” the Medic snapped scornfully.

“Alright! Alright! We’ll stay seated!” that definitely sounded like the BLU Scout this time.

“Good,” the Medic was a little calmer and quieter as he spoke, “If you would all please remain calm…and seated…and…this is our Engineer.”

He stepped inside, moving out of the doorway. The BLU Engineer gave him a little push, ushering him towards the door. He hobbled inside, looking around at the room. It was overflowing with people from both teams. Two of just about every class was there in that mess hall. Two Medics, two Soldiers, two Scouts, two Snipers, two Heavys, two Pyros, two Demomen, and even the two Spies.

Disbelief swept over the room. It hit the Spies so hard that their mouths had fallen agape. The RED Spy dropped a cigarette from his mouth without even noticing its absence. Both Scouts, seated side by side, had jumped from their seats, despite the promise to the RED Medic.

It was Jane who came bouldering into him. The slightly bigger man wrapped him in a tight hug and started weeping. He could already feel the tears soaking the shoulder of his shirt as the Soldier shook with sobs.

Nobody else moved. Nobody else even batted an eye. They just sat or stood there, staring at him like the world had suddenly come to a horrific end in one spectacular blast.

He hugged the Soldier back, trying to give him some comfort. The poor man seemed broken, as if everything had been beaten out of him. Somehow, he thought Francis was the only one who could put him back together.

“It’s okay there, Sol,” he said, patting the bigger man’s back.

“Oh…wow…Engie…” the RED Scout breathed uneasily.

“How come we were called here?” the BLU Sniper asked. He did not look peeved, rather he looked nervous.

“You all wanted to know!” the BLU Medic spoke up in exasperation. That made Francis wonder how the BLU Medic knew.

Francis chuckled awkwardly and decided to try and break the quiet tension building up, “Did ya’ll miss me that much?!

There was a unanimous voice amidst a lot of his friends, “Yes!” He thought that even a couple of BLUs he did not know well spoke up.

“It’s good to see you, lad!” the BLU Demoman had a tear in his eye.

“Welcome back,” the BLU Engineer gave him a pat on the back.

“Well,” Francis chuckled again, “I’ll do my best to get back into the swing of things, if I’m back on the team?”

“Yes!” the RED Scout leaped up into the air, “Engie’s back!” Some hoops and excited hollers went up in response to Scout’s shout.

Soldier pulled out of the hug, sniffling and rubbing his nose on his sleeve. Francis gave him a pat on the back and a reassuring smile. He would always be there for his friend, even if he needed to emote all over his shirt.

“It’s good to be back,” he announced, “Though I think it’ll be a while before I’m fully ready to take on my duties. I gotta get back into the swing of things. My arms aren’t what they used to be. I sure do need a lot of catching up too.” His eyes were grazing over the BLUs in the room, curious as to their presence on the RED base without reproach.

“It’s good to have you back, man!” RED Scout said, beaming broadly at him.

“It’s good to be back!” he nodded in agreement, “Dead sure as hell whipped me up a strange reality! I gotta…I gotta wipe that dream clean of my head and catch up to what’s really going on!”

“We can help if you like,” the BLU Engineer had his hardhat in hand, shifting it nervously around.

“Thank you,” Francis gave him a nod, before turning to Solly, “Say, are you still living with that wizard?” He barked a laugh. “Man…it was the strangest thing in my dream, you two were practically married!”

The room went silent and a strange expression crossed Jane’s face. A feeling of fear and dread filled Francis’ chest. The thought that they might turn on him terrified him.


	33. The Real Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The real ending. For real. It ends. This is the end of the story.

“It was…just a dream though,” he raised his hands defensively

They did not look convinced, faces stuck in something like confusion and betrayal. Or maybe it was something else. He could not tell what it was because he was panicking at the moment. He had not meant to call any of them homosexuals if they were not.

“It was just a really strange dream!” he insisted, then gestured to the Scouts, “The Scouts were both in a relationship with BLU Sniper over there.” That caused the BLU Sniper to flinch with surprise and widened eyes. “Demo and Solly were friends again,” He gestured between the RED Soldier and the BLU Demoman. “Heavy was…” his voice trailed off as the memories came to him.

Those memories were so vivid. He remembered it all so well. The pain was too real. The emotions were too real. The visuals were all too real. Not to mention they were all stuck in his head like no dream had ever been before. Most nights he could forget all about his dreams, yet he could not forget anything from that memory.

“How is this possible?” the RED Heavy looked to the RED Medic. The Medic merely shrugged in response.

“I don’t know man,” the RED Scout spoke up.

“But…you boys…” he looked around, his heart pounding in his ears. His eyes caught sight of the BLU Spy walking towards him, but he could not focus on him. “Ya’ll were starting to get along…and…the Spies were…” his voice trailed off in a low tone, “brothers…”

The BLU Spy was right in front of him, just close enough to hear his last shambling words. He was not paying attention to that though. His hand was digging in his familiar satchel to pull something out. Francis could not move his eyes from the burnt and distorted thing in his hand. It was blackened and misshapen. One leg did not match up to what the outfit determined it should be.

“Hell are you doing?” the BLU Scout leaped forward to try and pull the BLU Spy back.

The Spy put the doll in the Engineer’s hand. Francis paused to turn it over, looking at the ugly thing. There were seams everywhere and the poor thing looked so tattered. A tremor ran up his spine as he remembered the stitches that made up those abnormal seams going into his body. He remembered the painful stabs from the needle and how it pulled the thread through him.

“You remember, don’t you?” the Spy spoke in a soft quiet voice.

“That all happened?!” he exclaimed with disbelief, dropping the doll. There were a few gasps when he dropped the doll. A few people even got out of their seats. “You’re telling me it was real!” Francis grabbed the Spy’s shoulders. The Spy suddenly looked frightened, wanting to pull back. “I was the Engiedoll!” he declared.

“Hey buddy, take it easy,” the BLU Engineer stepped up to try and help.

Francis turned to the BLU Engineer, “And you! You had a-” He cut himself off before he could give away the man’s secret in front of his secret crush. He shook his head, shaking away the thought. “It wasn’t a dream!” he released the BLU Spy as he turned to look at the rest. It was not a dream, he was just human again.

“Holy freaking stinking crap!” the RED Scout gestured wildly.

“Are you kidding me?!” the BLU Scout had a big grin on his face as he stared at the Engineer.

“So…you did all of that?” the Spy asked, “It _was_ really you.”

“It was really me, boy,” Francis chuckled.

“Holy freaking stupid- Holy shit!” the RED Scout went on.

Raucous laughter followed. There were too many voices, and a hand drew him to the table. Somebody was talking about food, or at least he thought so. It all got lost in the noise.

His attention became detracted towards the man who slinked out of the crowd. His eyes followed the tall slender RED until he disappeared out of the door. A painful feeling struck him as he began to miss the Sniper.

 

It was not long before he managed to excuse himself. At first they were suspicious, but they seemed understanding when he complained of a headache. He had only recently woken from traumatic death, after all. As much as they all wanted to visit with him, he needed rest.

He started towards the infirmary, but halfway there he diverted his path. He made his way out of the base, being as quiet as he could. It was difficult, wearing boots that were actually padded with thick soles. Still, he did not want anybody to come out realizing that he was not in fact going to go lay down in the infirmary.

He took a breath as he made the trek to the camper van. Amazing how much shorter it was now. It seemed like a massive journey before. Now, he could just stroll over to the camper like it was no big thing.

When he approached, he heard a noise and got low. His hackles rose – which was an amazing feeling because now he actually had hair – as he walked around the camper at a crouched level. He came to find the Sniper alone, punching the side of his camper. Seeing that there was nothing wrong, the Engineer rose to his full height and walked a little closer. Sniper’s hand looked like it had taken too much a beating by the time he stopped. He pressed his forearms against the metal and his forehead against the warmth of his arms. His eyes were still closed, with a strained look on his face.

“Shut up Spy,” the Sniper whimpered, “It wasn’t fair.” The Sniper shuddered, as if at a cold wind.

Francis looked to the ground and saw the fallen slouch back hat. It was unlike the Sniper to abandon something he treasured so much. It had been a gift from his family after all. The man usually kept it clean and well cared for, even in war.

He ducked down to snatch it up and dust it off. Once Sniper was cooled off, Francis figured he would want his hat back. He would regret letting it sit on the ground like something that was unimportant to him.

“Spy, if you don’t get out of here-” the threat was left open ended, as the Sniper’s fists started sliding down the smooth metal wall.

“You’ll what?” the Sniper spun around to face the Engineer, “I ain’t no Spy. I sure as hell ain’t gonna leave though.”

He finished dusting off the hat as he approached the Sniper. He raised it up, placing it on the Sniper’s head. He took a moment to straighten it, while bleary swollen red eyes stared back at him. After giving the hat one last loving pat to put it in its place, Francis lowered his hat.

“You don’t look so mad, mate,” the Sniper said, in a low voice. His tone was soft, as smooth as he ever remembered.

“No,” he shrugged in response, “Why would I be?”

“If you remember what happened,” the Sniper said weakly.

“You said some damn stupid things,” he spoke a bit more loudly, a bit scornfully, “You acted like a jackass with a pin in his backside! And yet, I can’t stay mad.”

There was a long silence. There was a bit of sniffling as the taller man dealt with the previously tearful complexion. He paused to rub his nose on his sleeve.

“I was real red,” Francis admitted, “I was ready to drag your ass across the gravel!”

“You would be right to,” the Sniper’s gaze dropped to his shuffling feet.

“Nah,” Francis disagreed, “Wouldn’t be right. Besides, the other day…I think it was the other day…you and I were just spending time together. It was almost like old times. I remembered what it was like to have my pal again.”

Sniper averted his eyes to the side, nodding ever so slightly. He did not do much more, standing there looking guilty of murder. He just had this overall complexion of sadness and it was depressing.

“Come on, Sniper,” Francis insisted, giving a gentle tap to the arm with a balled fist.

Sniper sighed, “Did you mean the things you said before?”

“I was angry,” Francis insisted, “But…if I were to say anything about it…I never said anything before because…I guess I didn’t want to.”

“Why not?” Sniper asked.

Francis shrugged, “Guess I didn’t want to admit I liked having you around, even if it wasn’t the best strategy.”

Sniper grunted, but did not say anything. He reached up to scratch the back of his neck, before his hand bumped his hat. He glanced upward, a hand reaching to touch it. He seemed to have suddenly realize that the hat was up on his head.

“You seem right and proper with that hat on,” Francis commented.

“Er…yea…” the Sniper offered a hand to shake, “Anyways, it’s good to have you back.”

“You’re…” Francis closed his eyes. Why did this suddenly hurt?

All of a sudden his lungs hurt. All at once walls closed around him, even though they were out in the open. He felt the sting of tears and held his breath.

Was this really happening? He could not make his heart slow down. It was pounding so fast in his chest. He was certain that the Sniper could hear it.

Surely by now the man could already see him struggling. It had to be showing on his face. It had been so long since he had a normal human face that he was a bit unfamiliar with whether he was emoting properly. What was more, he was not a Spy, so he had no damn training to lie and deceive like that anyways.

“Mate?” Sniper tried to interrupt his thoughts.

He took a sharp breath and forced his eyes open. He regretted that as the stinging in his eyes began turning into tears that wanted to drip down his cheeks. The sensation would have been cooling on his hot cheeks, but at this time it was completely unwanted.

“You forget how to…shake hands?” the Sniper asked, shifting his hand to get the Engineer’s attention.

He chewed on the inside of his lip. He felt like he was losing it. The pain in his chest was too much to bare. It would only hurt worse if he took that hand and shook it like a gentleman.

“Don’t do me like this,” Francis finally managed to say.

The Sniper gave him a curious look, his hand lowering slowly, “What’s that?”

“Don’t do me like that!” Francis exclaimed loudly. He back handed slapped the hand that was lowering, trying to express his outrage.

“Engineer!” the Sniper took a half step back.

He closed his eyes to bite back tears. He tilted his chin down, trying to hide his eyes beneath the hardhat. God this was awful. The feelings in his gut made him feel even worse.

“You got a problem, mate?” the Sniper inquired, defensively.

“You’re going to stand there and act like it was all nothing?” Francis demanded, wishing he could make the man see. Maybe if he saw things through his own eyes, he would know how he felt about him.

“I got…I got a problem!” Francis proclaimed, “I got a problem with you pussying out when the moment comes up!”

“Wh- I don’t know what you mean?” Sniper’s voice rose a bit in pitch.

The Engineer lowered his head again and sighed. Maybe this was all for naught. Maybe this was just him wanting to see things the way they weren’t supposed to be. Whatever it was, it was falling apart right in front of him.

“Y-you…you…” he could not really finish a thought anymore. It hurt too much to say anything now.

“You expecting me to read your mind, mate?” Sniper asked, “I thought you weren’t mad at me! Now you’re mad at me?”

“I ain’t mad at you,” Francis forced his hands to relax at his sides, “Not really. I’m mad…I’m mad cause I thought things were different.”

“How are they?” Sniper asked.

The Engineer shook his head, “Not good.”

“Think there’s something we can do about it?” Sniper asked, pausing for a few moments, “You’re a smart man. I’m sure that you of all people would be able to fix something like this.”

“Give me a chance, Sniper,” he hugged his arms, wishing he could just understand what was going through the Sniper’s head.

“A…a chance?” Sniper spoke hesitantly.

Francis stepped forward, closing the distance between them. His heart was pounding in his ears as he tilted his face up to look at him. He was not sure what he was doing right now. He had never thought of doing something like this, let alone actually done something like this.

The tan line of sunglasses around the man’s eyes was apparent at this distance, but almost hidden by the shade of his wide brimmed hat. His eyes were still sheen with the moisture of unshed tears. He wondered if his own eyes were puffy like that now, as he felt the pain push a lump in his throat.

He swallowed that lump down and mentally assured himself. Now was not a time for tears. Now was a time for making himself look a little taller. Now was the time to be ready for anything that could happen at any moment. Now was the time to be bold and take a chance.

A hand went to the Sniper’s face, cupping his jaw and lower cheeks. Dark and gray stubble scraped against his palm, as he touched the man’s face. The stunned visage before him did nothing but stare back at him in stricken wonder.

His other hand traveled slowly up the shoulder towards his neck. He could feel the man’s pulse at his neck, and in general could see his breath quicken. Still, he said nothing if it was uncomfortable.

He cupped the back of the Sniper’s head. His fingers ended up toying with the curl at the back of his hair, where his hair could freely move out away from the usually pushed down pattern from wearing hats.

He felt his own breath quickening. It was terrifying to think that he was this close to another man. He was this close to Sniper of all people.

His eyes locked with those lips. Slightly parted, they seemed like they had a word ready on the tip of the tongue. They looked prepared to speak, but remained frozen in silence.

He took another breath. It was either take a chance or lose it forever. He shut his eyes and dove for it. The feel of stubble rubbing against the stubble on his own face felt strange, but did not distract him from how soft those lips were. His heart was racing through his body with the rising excitement. The hand on the back of the Sniper’s head held tighter as he felt hands on his back pulling him in.

When they separated, Francis needed a few moments to open his eyes and process what he was seeing. The Sniper’s eyes fluttered open and he stared back at him. They were still close together though. Their chests were pressed together, their hearts pounding against each other’s ribcages.

He swallowed and gasped for breath. There was no real reason, other than the realization of just how big of a leap this was. This had been his one chances, but not all chances panned out well.

“Engie?” the Sniper offered him a sheepish smile.

“Yea?” he grinned at that grin.

“Does this mean I have to take you on some fancy date?” Sniper asked, worriedly.

“Nah,” the Engineer shook his head, “Let’s just hang out together and have a few brewskies.”

“I’d like that,” the Sniper smiled and nodded in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End.  
> For real this time.  
> This has been a nice story.  
> I've fallen for the characters.  
> They'll be in follow up stories, but it won't be themed like this one.
> 
> Thank you for reading the entirety of Pocket Merc. I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
